It Was Just a Night Out
by Mystitat
Summary: CATS: Alternate universe. An approved spinoff of “In the City” by Megera. Sarah's first date alone with her new boyfriend, and it's only three nights until the full moon but that may not be the problem....
1. Discovery

**It Was Just a Night Out**

By Mystitat

A/N: An approved spin off of "In the City" by Megera. If you've never read it, put it high on your "to do" list. It's that good. My story will be more understandable if you've read it already, but if you haven't, a word of introduction: in this alternate universe, the Jellicles are not real cats, but actually were-cat people. Under the light of the full moon, it's almost impossible for them to resist changing. Of course, the moon always gives a slight pull, whether it's full or not. "Sarah" and "Peder" are the human names of Etcetera and Tugger, and they are entirely Megera's creation, and again, are used with her permission.

* * *

Sarah smiled as she sat in the front seat of Brandon's pick-up truck. It was their first evening out together. Sure, they had been on group dates before, but this was their first private evening out together. Sarah's parents had been nervous at first to let them go out all alone together (after all, Sarah was only sixteen), but in the end, Brandon won them over. He really was a good boy, one that most parents would kill to have their daughters date. (Not to mention the fact that they were elated that their daughter had taken an interest in someone other than Peder.) 

Of course, there was a totally different reason besides that that had made them a little uneasy. There were only three nights before the full moon. Understandably, they were a little concerned about Sarah's ability to ward off the change. But Sarah had reassured them adamantly, citing the fact that Brandon had promised to take her somewhere secluded (which surely meant indoors, right?), and that it was an entire _three days_ until the actual full moon. The pull wouldn't be nearly as strong as it would be three days later.

So Sarah was confident as she rode along with her beau. She really didn't have any idea where they were going, but she trusted him; they were very much in love (or at least, as much in love as you can be at sixteen). Still, she felt herself becoming a little nervous as they turned off of the city streets and began driving on wooded back roads. "Ah, Brandon?" she asked. "Can you please tell me where we're going now?"

He smiled and kept his eyes on the road. "You'll see," he said noncommittally.

_Un-helpful much_, thought Sarah. She would just have to be content to wait until they got there.

Unfortunately, Sarah audibly gasped when she found out just where "there" was. Brandon had brought the truck to a stop, and she found herself parked on the edge of the road on the shoulder, over-looking the entire city, lit up in all its glory. It really was a breath-taking sight. Only one problem: they were at a rather high elevation, which brought them even closer to the moon than they would have been were they in the city itself! On top of that, they were certainly not indoors as Sarah had hoped they'd be (though they _were_ secluded)!

"Brandon, tell me we're not staying here." She could already feel the itch that the full moon brought on (even though it was early; still, the moon was large).

Brandon looked at her curiously. "Of course this is it, Bunches" he said amusedly ("Bunches" was his name for her: don't ask). "I told you I'd bring you somewhere where we could have fun." He started leaning in to take her by the chin.

She shook him off, trembling with the effort it took to hold off changing right in front of him. "Fun!" she gasped, nervousness creeping into her voice, "What could we possibly do here that's fun!"

He leant in closer, "Well, I thought we could..."

Sarah's eyes widened. There was no _way_ she could make out with him _now!_ As much as she really did want to, she was fighting the needs of her felinity too hard to be able to enjoy a kiss, let alone do it in a way that would make Brandon think that nothing was wrong! She needed to get out of there NOW!

"Brandon, I'm sorry, I have to go!" she cried, visibly panicked. She fumbled with the lock next to her, trying to get out the door, but despite her hardest efforts, her hands were already changing into paws. She quickly slipped them inside the sleeves of her sweatshirt, hoping that Brandon hadn't seen, but that made it even harder to open the door.

And it hadn't exactly helped that Brandon reached over and locked the door from his side. "Sarah," he said reassuringly, "Is something wrong?"

"Wrong! No nothing's wrong?" she blatantly lied. "I just have to go NOW!" She kept fumbling with the door.

Brandon sighed and reached over to her. She tried to slip away, but he took her head in his hands and forced her to look at him. She screamed in her mind. He _had_ to know now that she wasn't exactly normal. Etcetera's ears were already starting to poke out of her head, and she could feel the pain of her growing tail against the seat of the truck. The slight amount of make up she was wearing couldn't be enough to cover the lines that had to be drawing themselves over her face by now. Still, she clamped down on the change as hard as she could, trying to force every sinew of her body to go back to its human form.

But Brandon looked right in her eyes. Where she expected to see horror at the realization of what she truly was, she only saw pity, and perhaps a little amusement. "You're Jellicle, aren't you?" he asked softly, reassuringly.

She fiercely shook her head in his hands, but she could feel the fur growing on her face, and she knew he could feel it, too. "It's all right. You can change in front of me," he said, more calmly than should be humanly possible considering what he was witnessing. "It must be hurting you to try to hold off the change under the moon like this." He let go of her head and sat back in his seat normally. Sarah's eyes widened. She wanted so badly to just be human right then; she'd give up her glorious felinity in a heartbeat, if only Brandon didn't have to see her like this right now. But still, his words touched something in her. He spoke as though he knew how she felt, though she knew for a fact that he wasn't Jellicle himself. And he was right about the other part, too: it _was_ hurting her to hold off the change.

Exhausted and defeated, Sarah finally let the change take hold of her, and in a breath, Etcetera sat where she had once been. She cowered in the car seat; she'd broken one of the most important rules of being un-human: never tell anyone what you truly are. She'd hear it from the tribe for sure, now. She put them all in danger, and it was all because she had selfishly wanted to go out with Brandon and had too much confidence in her ability to hold off the change. She was doomed, and she knew it.

A tear fell from her eye. Not to mention that it was a very awkward junction in her romantic career. Oh, why hadn't she just stuck with Peder! She'd never have to worry about changing in front of him; he was Jellicle himself! Why hadn't she stuck with any Jellicle, for that matter! There were lots of other boys in the tribe. Well, not lots, but some! The other girls in the tribe had found Jellicle boyfriends. Heck, she could have dated another tom from outside the city! She could tell if they were Jellicle without them necessarily changing in front of her; all Jellicles could see it in the eyes. But no! She'd gone and chose a human boy, and now look what she'd done! She was crying in full force now.

But then she found the reason she had fallen in love with this particular guy. "It's okay," Brandon tried to reassure her. He put his hand on her shoulder. "You don't have to cry now, Bunches. I'm here. Come here." And despite her outward appearance, he embraced her strongly.

Etcetera couldn't resist. She felt like a little kitten who needed a hug. She grabbed him and nuzzled his neck in a way that he couldn't possibly be familiar with. Still, there were problems. "You're not going to tell on me, are you?" she asked pitifully.

He let go a bit to look her in the eye. She looked back; he was smiling sweetly and knowingly. "I couldn't possibly tell the humans about you, Bunches." Relieved beyond belief, Etcetera hugged him like the world depended on it, and cried her eyes out. "There, it's okay," he whispered in her alert ears. "You don't have to cry. I couldn't possibly tell on you." Then he actually giggled a bit, and muttered, "Besides, that would be hypocritical of me."

That comment made Etcetera abruptly stop crying and sit back to get a good look at him. He still smiled a small, knowing smile. "Hypocritical?" she questioned, incredulously. He nodded. "But you're not Jellicle, are you!" He shook his head, still smiling. She was a little afraid of what the answer might be, but she had to ask: "Then what are you?"

There, he stopped smiling, and sighed. "I guess it's only fair, huh?" he said, "Since you showed me what you are." He then reached into his sweatshirt and pulled something out. When he held it in the light, Etcetera gasped. Brandon wore a fine golden medallion on a black silk cord. The figure of a dog was engraved upon it.

Her eyes widened, and she shook her head in disbelief. "But the Hunters -!" she started, but she was interrupted.

"Hey, we have a little more sense than you cats give us credit for!" he cut her off through a crooked smile.

Still, Etcetera shook her head in disbelief. "But Deuteronomy said -"

But he cut her off again. "You don't believe me!" he asked. She shook her head in response. He looked around the truck furtively to make extra sure that they were alone, and when he was confident that they were, he smiled crookedly again. "Fine, I'll prove it to you. And don't say I didn't warn you."

She wasn't sure what he meant by the last part, but she nodded. Brandon closed his eyes, and without looking slipped the medallion off his neck. Immediately, a blissful smile came to his lips as his body underwent a series of changes that resembled the Jellicle change, but had a wildly different outcome. When he was finished, he opened his eyes wide and grinned wildly, a sign that he enjoyed time in his true form as much as Etcetera did in hers.

It defied everything she had ever been taught, but, like it or not, sitting before her, Brandon was a Pollicle. (Golden retriever, if Etcetera had to guess; then again, she wasn't too knowledgeable about dogs.)

"Hard to believe, eh?" he asked as he pressed up against her, suddenly more bold than he had even been before.

"You!" Etcetera gasped, suddenly quite frightened. Every instinct of her felinity told her to run, even though she was well aware that she couldn't even get out the door with the locks down. "You! You're a Pollicle!" she breathed, trying not to be afraid of her own boyfriend.

Luckily, he realized that she was getting scared of him, and backed off a bit. "Yeah, I am," he said. "I'm sorry if I'm scaring you. I know the whole ... cat/dog thing must be freaking you out right now."

"Yeah, it is!" she gasped, but tried to take a hold of her emotions. He'd made it clear that he wasn't going to try to hurt her. Still, though, she was a cat. As such, she was completely susceptible to bouts of curiosity. "But," she asked, "We thought you were all dead?"

He smirked at her, unconsciously baring his teeth a bit and making her squirm. "We are a little more intelligent than you cats give us credit for!" Then he realized what he'd shown her: his 'canines' were monstrous compared to Jellicle teeth. "Sorry," he said, and put his paw over his mouth. He did keep speaking, though: "When the Hunters swept through a few centuries ago, most of us _were_ killed. But there were a couple who'd found a way to ward off the change. They had medallions spelled to keep the wearer from changing forms, and so the hunters never found them. Of course, they didn't have dogs engraved on theirs, like mine does. That would have been too obvious. But those few did survive the hunters. We've repopulated a little bit, but we're still very much outnumbered by Jellicles. Far more so by humans. So we have to be more careful. We always wear the medallions, except on the full moon. And even when we do get together and take them off, we do it in a locked room. Not in some obvious junkyard!" He smirked at her again (this time covering his teeth).

Etcetera pouted. "Hey, the Junkyard _is_ locked!" she tried to protest.

He smiled wickedly. "Yeah, but the humans know about you!" he retorted, sweetly. "Not even the Jellicles know about us!"

It was Etcetera's turn to smile wickedly. "Not until now!" she cried.

He smiled and growled playfully. This time, she was not afraid, and playfully swatted at him. He ducked and grinned cunningly. Now Etcetera showed her teeth, and they proceeded to take playful swipes at each other, which escalated to pounces, until after five minutes or so, Etcetera was pinned to the backseat of the roomy truck cab. "Okay, okay, you win!" she cried, and he proceeded to nuzzle her for all she was worth.

A little while later, when they had both exhausted themselves, they laid together on the back seat, staring up at the moon through the windows. Finally, he nuzzled her and said, "I think I can live with this." He looked into her eyes. "Can you?"

She smiled and lost herself in his starry depths. "Yeah, I think I can," she replied, and promptly started to purr against him. He was a little startled by the clearly feline response, but he smiled and put his furry arm around her, their tails swinging back and forth at the edge of the seat. "Just one question," she mumbled before she slipped into sleep, "What's your real name?"

He smiled and closed his eyes. "Goldrith. You?"

"Etcetera."


	2. The Ride Home

"Mm, mmm..." _Purrrrr_

"Huh?" Goldrith mumbled with sleepy eyes, trying to recall where exactly he was. When he noticed the sunlight streaming around him, he gasped. It had to be at least past nine in the morning! His parents were going to kill him! His cerfew had been 11:30. "Aw man..." he moaned in frustration and annoyance.

Then he noticed the creature still asleep next to him, and almost recoiled at the sight, until the events of the night before resurfaced in his mind. It was just Sarah, just Bunches, he told himself. He smiled when as he gazed down at her, and saw her in an entirely new light. The markings on her face drew the eye upward, and her short, spunky headfur was really quite attractive. Her body was lean and graceful, even though she was still clothed, as was he. Sarah being Jellicle did actually explain a few things for him: why her parents had been so loathe to let her out, why she had always been conveniently booked on full moons (of course, he had been, too, so that wasn't exactly an issue). Still, even though he knew all too well that it was really just Sarah under the fur, it was a bit off-putting. Brandon was most definitely Pollicle. It was really unbelievable that he had been attracted to a Jellicle at all, considering the differences between their kinds. He would have thought that a dog could never be attracted to a cat. But still, he couldn't deny it; attracted he was...

He nuzzled her with his wet nose, and was quite close to giving her a good ol' fashioned lick on the cheek to wake her up, when he realized she might not enjoy that. Instead, he leaned very close to her ear, whispered, "Etcetera, wake up," and leant back to await her eyes opening.

They must have been able to hear her scream in the next county.

"Ssh!" he muttered as he tried to silence her with a paw. The sight of his canine self (even in human clothes) had awakened her feline instinct. Unfortunately, the instinct for her was to scream. "Not so loud, you don't want anyone coming while we're like this, do you?" he tried, but her body was still working without thinking. She was in a small space with a large dog, and she wanted _out_. She struggled against him, trying to force her way up, until finally he raised his voice and said, "Bunches! It's just me!"

Suddenly, her eyes flew open, and she inhaled sharply. She stopped struggling and fell back down on the seat, muttering, "Heaviside, you scared me!"

"I gathered," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Still, he softened, and uttered, "I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to do that to you. I didn't realize it would scare you so bad." He started rummaging around the cupholders by the front seat for his medallion, but she stopped him.

"No, Bran – I mean, Goldrith," she corrected herself, "It's not – I mean, I'm not scared of _you_. You just kind of ... surprised me." Her ears drooped, and she gave a sort of cat-shrug. "I'm just not really used to waking up with a _Pollicle_, you know?"

He smiled a bit, somewhat comforted, and muttered, "Yeah, I know." He turned back to look in her eyes. Her cat eyes. They were really the same eyes that she'd always had; eyes didn't usually change appearance in different forms. Still, now that he knew what she really was, he found that her eyes really were different. Her eyes had always looked a bit unlike those of anyone else he knew, human or Pollicle.

Suddenly, the quick movement of her head to look out the window disrupted his thoughts. "Um, what time is it?" she asked, her eyes growing large with worry.

He grimaced. "At least past nine," he replied. "I'm dead meat."

"Me, too. My parents are going to kill me!"

"Mine, too." Then he realized something. "Bunches," he asked softly, "What are we going to tell them?"

"Who?"

"Our families."

"About what?"

Goldrith smiled. Sarah (and Etcetera, too, it seemed), was prone to being a tad confused about what was being spoken about. Most people thought it was annoying. He found it amusing. "About ... you know." He motioned with his paw to indicate "_us."_

She looked confused for a second more, but then realization swept over her face, and she grimaced. "Oh, yeah, huh," she murmured. She seemed to think for a second, then asked, "Can we tell them the truth?"

"NO!" he cried, lashing out a bit involuntarily and quite unexpectedly. She squeaked and backed up, but he continued, "You _can't_ tell them about me! I'm a _Pollicle_, remember!"

She looked a little hurt. "Well, I'm a Jellicle," she countered.

Goldrith put his paw on his forehead in frustration. "No, it's just ... well ... you" - and by _you_, he meant, _you Jellicles_ - "You remember the fiasco last year, right?" She rolled her eyes, a "No, duh!" if there ever was one. He went on: "Well, we remember, too. We don't want that kind of thing to happen to us, you know!" She grimaced, but he still said, "You can't tell anyone about me, Bunches. Please."

She still grimaced for a moment, but finally said, "All right. I won't tell. Yet," she added. "But what are we going to tell them when we get back?"

He sighed, and said, "I don't know. We'll just have to think of something on the way. I don't want to risk being out here in the sunlight any longer. We should change back." He went back once more to looking through the jungle of the mess in the car. When his cursory search proved fruitless, he asked, "Um, do you know what happened to my medallion?"

Etcetera opened her eyes (she'd closed them for some reason unknown to him), and considered his question. "No," she finally muttered. "I don't remember what you did with it." She looked right at him and asked, "Is it important?"

He almost gasped, he was so shocked at her question. "Important?" he finally stammered. "Yes, it's important! We can't go until I find it!"

"Why don't you just change back, take me home, and look for it later?"

He turned at looked right at her, genuinely amazed at what she was saying. "Just change back? What do you mean, 'Just change back'? I can't change back without that medallion!"

Now it was her turn to be shocked. "You can't change back on your own!"

"No, I can't!" he muttered, and went back to searching under the seats in front of him, leaving Etcetera to stare curiously. Finally, she hopped into the front seat to help him look. After a couple minutes of searching, she spied the gold piece hanging from the rear-view mirror.

"Here it is!" she called, and reached out to grab it. But as soon as her paw touched the gold, she yelped and snatched it back. "What's wrong with that thing!" she shrieked.

"What's wrong?" Goldrith asked with concern as he climbed into the driver's seat to get a better look at her paw. "What happened?"

"It shocked me!" she screeched, her eyes wide. She scooted back as far as she could in her seat to get away from the thing.

He frowned. Reaching out with his paw, he gingerly touched the medallion still hanging from the mirror. Nothing. "Maybe it just had some static electricity," he offered. "That happens sometimes. Especially in cars."

"Nuh uh!" she called. Her eyes were still wide in alarm. "That hurt way more than a little static! That was more like the time Misto was practic..." she trailed off unexpectedly. He looked at her curiously. She continued: "Never mind. But that really hurt!"

"Oh," he muttered. He was quite at a loss as to why his medallion would hurt her. It was just gold. Okay, gold spelled with a Pollicle charm; but still gold. "Maybe it's because you're Jellicle?" he offered. "It is a Pollicle thing."

"Maybe. But I'm not touching that again!"

"Well, all right," he said. Then he smiled. Painful to her or not, he was relieved beyond belief that he'd found it. Slipping the thing on, he instantly started to change; his muzzle grew smaller, the black parts of his face returned to their flesh tones, and the fur melted away to reveal Brandon sitting there on the seat, somewhat disappointed at not being able to spend more time in his true form, but still relieved that he had found the medallion. He quickly slipped the thing under his sweatshirt, out of sight.

Etcetera stared. "You really can't change without that, can you?" she asked.

Nodding, he answered, "No I can't." He paused, then wondered out loud, "What, you can?" She nodded, like it was obvious. It certainly wasn't obvious to Brandon! "Really?" he inquired. Again she nodded. Incredulous, he said, "All right, do it."

And there, right before his eyes, without any outward motion or murmer, Etcetera melted away to leave Sarah sitting with him in the truck. She opened her human eyes and smirked at him. "See?" she said. "Told you!"

Brandon was a little shocked. Jellicles could change by themselves without any jewelry or anything? Well, he supposed it did make sense. From all he'd heard about Jellicles, part of the reason that they were known to humans was because they could be careless, and they didn't have medallions to keep themselves from changing under the full moon if they didn't want to. Of course, the medallion was such an integral part of the way Brandon changed that it had never occurred to him that the Jellicles would have to change without one somehow. He'd had it ever since he was born. It was still bizarre to him, though. He had no physical control over changing, but apparently, the Jellicles did!

"Wow," he finally muttered.

Sarah frowned. "I don't see what's so special about it," she said, "All the Jellicles can change on their own."

Brandon paused to consider, then asked, "What do you do?"

"Huh?"

"I mean, what do you do to make yourself change?"

"Oh. Hmm." She thought about it for a moment, then said, "I'm really not sure. It's just a feeling, I guess." They sat in silence while they both thought about that. Finally, Sarah continued, "I think it has something to do with our names."

This caught him off guard. "Names?" he queried. No one in his pack had made any big deal about names. He had two, Brandon and Goldrith, but it wasn't a big deal. "What do you mean, your names?"

She looked out the window. "Well," she started, "I barely remember when I was really little, if I ever changed when I wasn't supposed to, my parents would keep shouting, 'Sarah!' at me, and it usually made me change back. I think they said it was about learning control or something. But now, like, if you were to keep saying 'Etcetera' to me, it would make me want to change." She paused, then continued, "It's really hard to change in the daytime, though. The only reason I changed last night was because the moon was so big. Usually, I can't change at all on my own. I think it's like that for most of us younger ones."

"Oh," Brandon muttered. Then he caught a glimpse of the clock on the dashboard. "Gah!" he cried. "It's after ten! We _really_ need to go!"

"Ohmigosh!" Sarah cried. "Yeah, let's go!"

He started the car, and they headed on their way back to Sarah's house.

It was a fairly long trip back through the woods. After about ten minutes, Sarah finally asked, "So what're we going to tell our parents?"

He frowned. "I can just say I came back when I was supposed to," he answered. "My mom and dad work weekend mornings, so I think it's safe to say that they didn't notice I wasn't there." He didn't mention that the real reason that they probably wouldn't notice was because his parents were not on the best of terms, and they often didn't take much notice in him. "Your parents, though," he said, changing the subject, "Might care."

"Yeah," she agreed, eyes wide and full of worry.

He thought for a minute, then tried, "What if we say I came and got you this morning to go do something. I dropped you off last night when I was supposed to, and came back this morning to pick you up and go somewhere?"

She shrugged. "It might work."

They sat again in silence, until out of the blue, Sarah started snickering. Brandon was still worried about explaining the situation to her parents, and had no idea what she found so funny! "What is it?" he inquired.

She giggled a bit more, then asked amusedly, "Was there _really_ an awefull battle?"

"What!"

"You know!" she said, giggling more. "'The Awefull Battle of the Pekes and the Pollicles'! Did it really happen?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, come on!" she said, rolling her eyes and giggling more. "You can't tell me you've never heard of it!"

He kept his eyes on the road, but her infectious laugh was getting to him. It was one of the things he loved about her. Almost with a straight face, he answered, "Yes, I can. Sarah, I've never heard of it."

"Well," she said, trying to calm down her giggles (and failing miserably), "It's this big song and dance the Jellicles have! It's this big fight between the Pekes and the Pollicles, but then the Great Rumpus Cat comes and scares everybody away! It's really fun!" she said, making sweeping motions with her arms to indicate the battle, and the arrival of the cat. "So did it really happen?" she queried with a giant grin on her face.

Brandon, grinning as well, answered, "Well, Bunches, how should I know if a Jellicle song really happened?"

"You're a Pollicle! It's 'The Awefull Battle of the Pekes and the _Pollicles'_! You should know, right!"

"_I_ don't know! I've never even heard of a 'Peke'!" He answered through giggles of his own now.

"Oh, come on!" she called laughingly. Then she started to recite: "The Peke, although people may say what they please, is no British dog, but a heathen Chinese!"

"CHINESE!" he yelled. They were both laughing hysterically. "You're just going to have to tell me the whole thing, Bunches!"

And she did. By the time she had finished, and they were done laughing about it, they had pulled up to Sarah's house. "He really had a big 'R' on his chest!" Brandon cried. His eyes were watering, he was laughing so hard.

"Yeah! Just like Superman! You should have seen Admetus do it, it was to die for!" she exclaimed. Then she got a glimpse outside the window. "Omigosh, we're here!" Immediately, she sobered up. "What're we gonna say, again?" she asked, looking in the mirror to see if her hair was presentable.

Brandon took a deep breath. "We're going to say that I dropped you off last night like I said I would, but I came over early this morning to pick you up and go somewhere."

"Where?"

"Erm... the mall. Okay?" he asked as he gave her an encouraging smile.

"Okay." They climbed out of the truck and walked up to the door. Sarah rang the doorbell. "You're going to do most of the talking, right?" she asked hesitantly. They both knew she had trouble lying with a straight face.

"Yeah, I will. Shh," he said as he heard footsteps at the door.

As the door opened, the two of them were both shocked out of their minds when the first thing Mrs. Forsworth did wrap Sarah up in a giant embrace. Her eyes seemed to be wet. "Oh, Sarah," she muttered as she stroked her daughter's hair. "We were so worried about you!"

Brandon unconsciously grimaced. Uh-oh. So they _had_ noticed she was missing. As Mr. Forsworth came to the door, he tried to start explaining. "I'm really very sorry, Sir -" he started, but he was cut off.

"Don't try to apologize, Brandon." Brandon's mind prepared for the worst, but Mr. Forsworth continued, "We know it wasn't your fault."

The dog was utterly confused now, but Mrs. Forsworth spoke: "When we heard about that big crash on the freeway, we knew the two of you had to be caught in traffic all night."

"I know. A twenty car pile-up!" her husband said. "Can you believe it?"

Brandon plastered a big smile to his face. "No, we couldn't believe it either. But really, the news reports tried to tone it down a bit. It was really more like a thirty car pile-up!" he said with conviction. As a Pollicle, he'd actually been trained in lying, in case the time would come when he'd have to hide himself. "I'm just so sorry, I wasn't able to call and tell you! You see, my cell phone battery was dead..."

"Don't worry about it," Mrs. Forsworth said. "We're just so glad to have Sarah back safe and sound." The Sarah in question would have replied, but her mother was hugging her so hard it rather smothered anything she might have tried to say. "Come inside," her mom said. "It's far too hot out here."

"I'll call you later, Sarah," Brandon said as he started heading back to his truck. Sarah, still unable to speak, gave him a thumbs up. Once the door had closed behind the happy family, he headed back down the lawn to his car, got in, and give a giant sigh of relief before heading back to his empty house.

* * *

"So, what really happened?" Mark asked his sister a few minutes later as she started to climb the stairs to her room. 

"Nothing!" she responded, trying her hardest keep a straight face. She was awful at lying, but she could try. "Really, nothing happened!"

"Really?"

"Really!" she said, and ran up to her room before Mark could question her any more.

* * *

Thanks to everyone who's reviewed and shown support so far! 


	3. A Game, a Call, and a Visit

A/N: It has come to my attention that anyone who hasn't read "In the City" for a while may be a little confused when I mention Jellicles by their human names. That in mind, I've re-posted Megera's character list on my website (link from my bio page), assuming Megera doesn't mind (if you do, just let me know and it shall come down!). Still, I will try to mention which Jellicle the humans are in the context of the story. For now, Mark is Pouncival, and he's a year older than Sarah. And Jellice to anyone who knows what game the guys are playing! (Yes, I can do that. I helped invent the jello-y stuff!)

Eponine: Wish granted! (And please come by Randomninity and fill out my contact form with when you can come by my chatroom so we can arrange to get your stories online!)

* * *

Mark grimaced as he trudged back to the den. Something was up with his sister, but he couldn't put a finger on it. Or perhaps, rather, he couldn't put his nose on it. Among other things, the gift of being Jellicle gave its possessor a heightened sense of smell, even in human form. Something about Sarah just struck Mark as ... well, _wrong_.

In the den, Patrick and Jeff (aka Plato and Tumblebrutus) were playing Mark's Gamecube, having unpaused his controller against his express wishes. "Hey!" he cried when he saw that Patrick's Mario was un-heroically whooping the behind of his own idle Ness. In a flash he grabbed his wavebird and with a few lightning-fast reflexes, Mario was sailing toward the vast beyond (though only to return a second later, flashing yellow to indicate his invulnerability for a few seconds).

"Hey, you made me lose a stock!" Patrick complained.

"No he didn't. We're playing timed," Jeff corrected. He paused his own controller and looked at Mark. "So who was at the door?" he asked.

"Sarah," Mark replied as he dropped into one of the old recliners. "She _just now_ got back from her date." He raised his eyebrows.

Patrick and Jeff raised their eyebrows as well. "Oooh, wow," drawled Patrick. "What'd your parents do to her?"

"Nothing!" The other two appeared outraged, but he continued, "They assumed that the two of them had been caught in traffic all night, and that _nothing happened._"

"Do you think anything happened?" Jeff queried.

Mark sighed and looked away. "I'm not sure," he started. "Sarah maintained that nothing happened, but of course, that's Sarah." The three of them rolled their eyes in unison; they were all familiar with the character of the most hyperactive kit of the tribe. "Of course," Mark continued, "It was Brandon she was with. He's a good guy; I trust him. He wouldn't do anything that she'd regret later. Still ... eh, never mind. It's nothing. Could you unpause, Jeff?" he asked, wanting to get back to the game.

Jeff unpaused, but Patrick paused his own controller, effectively halting the action onscreen. "Wait, what is it, Mark?" he asked.

Mark put down his controller on the coffee table. "It's just...," he tried, but he had to start over. "It's ... well ... it's weird for me to say this, but she ... smelled weird."

Again, Patrick and Jeff raised their eyebrows, in skepticism this time. "She smelled weird?" Jeff questioned.

"Yeah, she did," Mark said. "Like ... not like _she _smelled weird, but more like she had a weird smell _on_ her. You know?"

Patrick frowned. He remembered what the state of orbital affairs had been like last night, so he lowered his voice as he asked, "You mean, like, a _cat_ smell?"

Mark grimaced. "No, that's just the thing," he answered. "It wasn't."

* * *

"That was close!" Sarah almost screamed when Brandon finally called her. 

"Yeah, a little too close," Brandon replied. "I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have let that happen."

Sarah sighed and smiled. "Don't worry about it," she cooed. Brandon was always over-apologizing. "Really, it's okay."

"But I feel really bad about –"

"Really! It's okay!" she cut him off. She changed the subject: "So, did the 'rents make a big deal out of it for you?"

"No, not at all. They're not even home. Look, are you sure that your parents aren't going to do anything to you? Because I'd feel so bad if –"

"BRANDON!"

"Okay, sorry. I'll stop." A pause, then, "Did Mark say anything?"

"Well, sort of. He asked me if _anything happened_."

"Oooh... what'd you tell him?"

"Well, I tried to tell him nothing happened ... "

"But?"

"Well, I think maybe he doesn't believe me."

"Why?"

"Well, he was lookin' at me pretty funny, like he was trying to think of something, or something. I dunno. It was just kinda weird."

"Oh." Another pause. "Look, do you want me to come pick you up or anything?"

"Why?"

"In case you want to talk or something?"

She thought about it, then said, "Actually, I don't think my parents would let me. They were kinda so relieved to have me home, that I don't think they'll let me go out again alone so soon."

"Oh." Yet another pause. "Look, Sarah ..."

"What?"

"Are you ... are you still okay with this?"

"With what?"

"With ... us being together?"

She paused, then answered, "I .. I think so. It's not that I don't like _you _anymore, Brandon! It's just, well, I'm not sure what. I don't really know any other Poll-"

"Shh! Don't say it out loud! Someone might hear you!"

"Sorry."

"It's all right. Not your fault at all, Bunches."

"Yeah."

_awkward pause_

"Listen, Bunches," he said, finally breaking the silence, "Why don't you call me when you think your parents will let you go out again, and I can meet you at Starbucks or something?"

"Sounds great!"

"Yeah, okay." Then he remembered what had happened last time his girlfriend had had caffeine-laced beverages. "Actually, on second thought," he said, "Why don't we make it the library?"

"Okay, sounds good," she answered. But then she remembered who worked at the library. "Actually, um, can it be somewhere else? 'Cuz if we're gonna talk about ... what I think we're gonna talk about, maybe it should be some place where people won't hear us." _Or anything else,_ she thought to herself as she pondered what Kyle and Katrina might think about her Pollicle beau.

Brandon didn't think there would be that many people at the _library_, but he still said, "Oh, all right. How does my place sound? I'll pick you up."

"Sounds great. I'll call you later, then."

"All right. Bye, Bunches."

"Bye."

* * *

The next day was a Sunday, so that afternoon found Sarah walking down the Main Street of the quiet suburban town accompanied by Madeline (or Electra, to her closest friends). Sarah still hadn't spoken to Brandon since yesterday morning, but it wasn't because she didn't want to. She really did like him; she enjoyed spending time with him! But still, what he'd told her about, and what he'd shown her ... well, it made her uneasy. She knew what she'd told him that night in his truck, that she was okay with it, but she was beginning to have second thoughts. It would be hard to hide what they were from their families for long (Sarah wasn't good at hiding anything for very long, for that matter). Not to mention that there was a full moon the next night. For poor Sarah, and a few of the other adolescent kits, the full moon could be worse than hormones, always making emotions more intense. It wasn't always a bad thing, but it certainly could be. 

Finally, Madeline started to wonder what was wrong with her friend. "Is something the matter? You're unusually quiet today."

Sarah looked up abruptly. "I am?" she asked, slightly alarmed.

"Yeah. You are," Madeline replied with conviction.

"Oh." Sarah tried to change the subject: "Is the antique store even open on Sundays?"

"Of course it is!" the darker-skinned girl retorted. "Would we be going if it weren't open? Moreover, Greg is the only one working there today!"

"Fine!" Sarah surrendered as they turned the corner and entered The Attic (which was a weird name for an antique store, if you asked Sarah...).

It was empty save for the lone employee. "Ah!" Greg called from behind the counter, "Two lovely ladies have come to save me from my boredom! To what do I owe the honor?"

Madeline simply smiled and hopped up on the counter, positioning her cheek to receive a kiss. He tickled her instead. "Greg!" she yelled, trying to defend herself from the onslaught; "You are such a devil!" she cried through giggles. He stopped tickling and looked her right in the eye, grinning evilly. "Don't even say it!" she said. "I already know!"

"Oh, but I AM a devil!" he cried, and kissed her passionately.

Finally, Sarah could take it no more. "Are you two going to come up for air?" she asked, pretending to gag.

Greg released his girlfriend and looked at her. "Oh, I almost forgot you were here, Sarah," he said, grinning at Madeline. "But that reminds me, how's Peder?"

Sarah gave him a look.

He threw up his hands in mock alarm. "Whoop, sorry! I mean, how's Brandon?"

Even though she should have seen it coming a mile away, the question caught Sarah off-guard (not the brightest bulb in the box, is she...). She must have stood there with her mouth open trying to decide what to say for a whole minute, before she finally made out, "He's good!"

"Just good?" Madeline queried, getting down off the counter. "You went out with him the night before last! How was it!"

Sarah's eyes were wide with alarm as she practically yelled, "Good! It was good!" It was the only thing she could think to say; she was such a horrible liar!

Greg's eyes narrowed in contrast, but he still grinned. "A little monosyllabic today, aren't we?" he asked. "Really Sarah, what happened?"

She started taking a few steps back, scared as she was by the sudden assault of questions about the one thing she really couldn't talk about. "Nothing happened! We – we were –" she stuttered, desperately trying to remember the story her parents had believed.

Madeline's face took on a look of concern. "What's wrong?" she asked, trying to comfort her. "Did Brandon do something –"

"TRAFFIC!" she screamed as soon as her mind grasped the word! "We were stuck in traffic all night!" She was still backing away anxiously.

Greg frowned. "Sarah, if you don't want to talk about it, it's okay if – AAH! Look out!" he suddenly cried. And with a flick of his wrist, the end table on which a gorgeous stained-glass lamp rested all of a sudden scooted over a few feet, narrowly avoiding the collision Sarah would have caused had she continued unconsciously backing up. Sarah, startled by the unexpected movement, promptly fell on the floor. "You almost hit that!" Greg cried as he rushed over to assess any damage (to the lamp, not to the girl). "Sheesh, Sarah, that was close!" he said after he made certain that the lamp wasn't broken. "That thing's been paid for already!"

Madeline gave her friend a long look, and finally asked, "Sarah, are you sure you're all right?"

Sarah frantically looked around the room for a moment, then stood up and muttered, "I have to go!" And with that, she raced out the door. Madeline gave Greg a look of apology before racing out after her.

Greg, now alone in the store, scratched his head. That had been odd. Verily. He moved the end table back to its rightful place, then resumed his place behind the counter where he'd been before the girls had gotten there and made his day confusing. Just then, the phone rang. He answered.

"Hey, Mark! No she's not here. She just left in fact. Wait, what? What did you just ask? Did I smell anything!"


	4. Carls Jr

A/N: Sorry that took so long. I have been neglecting fanfiction to work on Randomninity. Anyways, here ya go.

* * *

Sarah RAN across two streets and around a corner, looking over her shoulder the whole time to make sure that Madeline hadn't followed her. If there was one thing she didn't want to explain just then, it was what had happened Friday night. Well, that wasn't quite right. She really did want to tell and get the awful weight off her chest! But Brandon had trusted her. He couldn't let anyone know his secret, and he'd taken a large enough risk by telling Sarah. She wasn't going to let him down now, no matter how bad of a liar she was! 

She took the small cell phone out of her pocket that her parents made her take when she went anywhere without an adult. It was old and couldn't do anything but make phone calls, but it would do. She punched in the number for Brandon's cell, and counted her heartbeats as she waited for him to answer. Finally, he did. "Hello?" he asked, not recognizing the unfamiliar number that was calling him.

"BRANDON!" she practically yelled, not noticing that people were starting to stare at her.

"Bunches?" he asked, sensing the panic in her voice. "Are you all right?"

"Yes! I mean no! I mean, I will be! Can you come pick me up!" She glanced around to make sure that Madeline hadn't found her.

"Yeah! Sure, of course! I'm getting in my truck right now. I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Thanks," she sighed. Then, a thought penetrated her much relieved head. "Oh, Brandon! I'm not exactly at home..."

She could have sworn she heard him snicker, and pouted indignantly. Still, he said, "I was wondering where you were calling from. Okay. Where are you?"

Sarah looked around. "I'm outside a Carl's Jr. It's across from an Albertson's and a -" she squinted "- _Porky's Deli Mart."_

"Okay. I know where that is. I'll be right there. Bye."

"Wait!"

"What?"

"Um.." she hesitated, but said, "Don't hang up."

"Don't hang up?"

"Uh-huh."

"Okay." He paused for a moment, then asked, "So what are you doing over there?"

She cringed. "Madeline wanted me to come with her to this antique store. It's called The Attic."

"Oh, hey! I've been there before!"

"Really?" That surprised Sarah. She didn't think anyone under the age of forty ever actually _shopped_ there. "What'd you get?"

"Oh, I didn't get anything. I went with my mom. She was trying to redecorate the guestroom, and she heard they had this marble vanity she wanted, or something."

"Oh."

"Yeah. It was odd, though. There was this really weird guy working there. He had this really white-blond hair!"

"Oh, really!" Sarah smiled. She could think of only one "weird guy working there" who would fit _that_ description...

"Yeah. He was kind of creeping me out, though. I felt like he was staring at _me_ the whole time I was there. And I know this is weird, but I could have sworn he thought I smelled or something! His nose kept flaring like that. Isn't that weird!"

Her eyes flew open wide, and her smile evaporated. "Yeah, that's weird..." she drawled, imagining just why Greg might have thought that. _She _had never noticed any weird smells around Brandon, but then again, toms did tend to have stronger senses of smell than queens. Greg was older, too. Not to mention that Greg, or rather, Mistoffelees, had, well, extra-sensory perception, of a sort...

"So did you get anything?"

"Huh?" His question had caught her off-guard.

"Did you buy anything at The Attic?"

"Me? Oh, no! We just kind of went there to ... hang out, I guess."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I guess..."

"Okay." He paused for a moment, then said, "Okay, I'm coming up on the Carl's Jr. Where are you exactly?"

Sarah looked up. "I'm underneath the 'Drive-thru this way' sign."

"Okay, I see you. I'm in the big black truck."

"Yeah, okay."

Once he'd pulled up and opened the door, Sarah hopped into the front seat and buckled the seat belt. Brandon locked the doors and started to turn the truck around. "So, are you hungry?" he asked.

Sarah was about to say no, but at that moment, her stomach growled. "I'll take that as a 'yes,'" Brandon said, smiling. Sarah pouted. Instead of pulling the truck out of the parking lot, he pulled around into the drive-thru and rolled down his window. "What do you want?" he asked.

She shrugged, completely at ease with him. "Baked potato, I guess. And a chocolate milkshake!"

"A baked potato?" he asked, incredulously.

"Yeah! Why?"

He shrugged now. "I don't know. Do they even have those here?" he asked, looking at the menu.

"Of course they do!" she retorted. "It's a Carl's Jr.!"

"Oh, okay!" he said, backing off. "I'm more of a carnivore myself..." He snickered, but the joke was completely lost on Sarah.

"WelcometoCarl'sJr.wouldyouliketotryourspecialtoday?" the voice blared over the speaker box.

Sarah didn't make out a word of what the voice said, but Brandon, unfazed, replied, "No, thanks. I want a baked potato, a medium chocolate shake, and a six-dollar burger."

"Doyouwantsourcreamonthepotatoorontheside?"

Brandon looked questioningly to Sarah, but she was confused beyond belief. "On the side," he answered for her.

"That'll be seven dollars and forty nine cents. Thankyoupleasepulluptothewindow."

Brandon put the car in gear and pulled up to the pickup window. "Wow. The potato and shake were only a buck fifty!" Sarah said, commenting on the only part of the order she had made out correctly.

Now Brandon was confused. "Huh?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "If the burger was six dollars, then the potato and the shake were only a buck fifty!" She smiled, so proud of herself. "See? I'm good at this math thing!"

Brandon was about to try to explain to her that it was only called a six-dollar burger, that it really cost $3.95, and that they only called it that because it was supposed to be the quality of a burger that cost six dollars, but then he changed his mind. That might have been a little too much for her. Instead, he said, "Yeah, that's weird," and put the food on the floor in front of Sarah. He then pulled out of the drive-thru.

Sarah reached down to her feet to retrieve her potato, and was soon unwrapping the foil. Brandon saw her, and started, "Oh, don't - !" But then he got a look at her innocent face, and changed his mind. Normally, he never let _anyone_ eat in his truck, but for Sarah, he could make an exception. "Never mind," he muttered, and she continued unwrapping. He could always clean the car later.

"Hey, they forgot the sour cream!" she called out once she had finished with the foil.

"It's in the bag," he said.

She found it, and cried out, "Wow! How did you know that!"

Brandon sighed, smiling.

* * *

Sarah was about halfway done with her potato when Brandon pulled into the driveway of his family's house. Together, they managed to gather the food back into the paper bags, and to clean up most of the chocolate milkshake spill. They then went around to the front door, which Brandon opened with his key. 

"Dad, I'm home! Are you here?" he called, but there was no response. He shrugged. "Dad's not home, I guess," he said to Sarah. "You can make yourself comfortable in the kitchen. I think you know where it is." She nodded. "I'll be there in a minute."

She was about to turn around, but stopped, and said, "Oh, wait! Can I use your phone real quick?"

"Sure. What for?" he inquired.

"I have to call Madeline and let her know I'm still alive. I kind of ran away from her in The Attic..." she hesitated.

Brandon saw her discomfort, and said, "Don't worry. Think about it, and when I get back to the kitchen, we'll talk." And just like that, he trudged down the hall, without mentioning to Sarah exactly where he was going. At least he had a darn good reason.

When Brandon got to the end of the hall, he entered the door to the guestroom. There, he opened the large dressing closet, and pressed a panel in the back. Lo and behold (well, it was actually no surprise to Brandon), the panal swung open to reveal a set of stairs leading down into what seemed at first glance to be a basement. He descended those stairs.

At the bottom, he came to a decent-sized room with brightly-painted sky blue walls, with a few stylized clouds strewn about. It was all quite brightly lit with flourescent lighting and LED lights, so as to create an atmosphere similar to that of being outdoors (though it was physically impossible to really come close). The whole place reeked (or as Brandon would put it, "smelled wonderfully") of dog. Brandon didn't linger long in this room. He strode non-chalantly to the other side of it, and opened a door painted the same color as the wall. It was through this door that he entered.

This room may have been smaller, but it was certainly more comfortable. It was much more civilized, with paneled oak walls, and a think burgandy carpet on the floor. The walls and most of the shelves were adorned with artifacts of different kinds, but all pertaining to the same theme: Pollicles. This room held one of the only collections of genuine Pollicle artifacts. On the other side, there sat a man at a desk, pouring over a large, leather-bound, handwritten tome. Brandon walked over to this man and tapped him on the shoulder. "Dad," he said. "Sarah's here."

He didn't even look up from the book. "Is she? That's fine."

Brandon turned around to go, but his father stopped him. "You may wish to get your stuff ready tonight, son," he said. "We'll have to leave this evening if we're going to get to the pack meeting tomorrow night."

"Tonight?" Brandon queried. "Where's the meeting that we have to leave tonight?"

"In the next state."

"WHAT!"

His dad finally turned to look at him. "I know. It's far away. But it's the Moralises' turn to host this month. Hey, they've been coming over every month for the moon, so don't complain. That's the way it has to be, since there are so few Pollicles anywhere. Just get your stuff ready." And just like that, he turned back to the book.

Brandon, very much annoyed, turned around and headed back upstairs. When he got to the kitchen, he found Sarah just hanging up the phone. "Madeline said it was fine," she said. "She actually bought my explanation! I must be getting better at lying."

"Ah," he muttered as he sat at the kitchen table, "What exactly did you tell her?"

"I told her I had to run to put a contact lens in!"

Brandon sighed. His girlfriend couldn't lie to save her life. "So," he said, "Tell me again why you really had to run out?"

Sarah sat down, pouting. "Well, they were asking how Friday night went..."

"Friday night?" he repeated, grimacing. Sarah nodded. Brandon sighed again. "Bunches," he went on, "We're going to have to think of something for you to say, and maybe practice it, too."

"Yeah," she agreed. "So what am I gonna say?"

"What do you think would be most comfortable?"

"I – I dunno..." she muttered. "What would we have done if ... you know... hadn't happened?"

Brandon suddenly started coughing hysterically. She'd caught him completely off-guard. The real reason ... yeah. He couldn't exactly tell her that even though the Pollicle medallion kept him from changing, it couldn't prevent him from feeling the psychological effects of changing. He had actually hoped that being under the moon would ... well ... bring out the wilder side of him, so making out with Sarah would be ... well ... _heightened_. He certainly hadn't counted on Sarah being a were-creature as well ... though it did turn out far more interestingly than it would have if she wasn't ...

Sarah was staring at him. "Brandon? Are you okay?" She shook him out of his momentary stupor.

"Hm? Yeah! I'm fine!" he responded as he shook off the out-of-it feeling. "I was just thinking ... maybe we should think of another story."

They spent the next half hour in the kitchen together, rehearsing how she'd say "I was stuck in traffic all night." By the end of it, Brandon was fairly confident she'd be able to get through a short conversation about Friday night, at least until she could excuse herself. "That should be all right," he said, wrapping it up.

"Good," she responded. "It's still gonna be hard not to say ... you know ... at the tribe meeting tomorrow."

Tribe? "Huh?" he asked. "Did you say _tribe?_"

"Yeah, tribe!" Sarah said, oblivious to why he might be confused, for confused he certainly was. He had no idea what he meant by tribe. (What Sarah automatically thought of as a _tribe_, Brandon had always thought of as a _pack_)

"Yeah, we have a tribe meeting at every full moon," she said. "Why?"

"Ah," Brandon replied, suddenly understanding. "It's nothing. We just call it a _pack_."

"Oh. I guess there's a lot of differences between us." Then she giggled. "Too bad we can't tell them what _really_ happened on Friday."

"Yeah," he snorted amusedly. _That_ would be something. Still, Friday night really had been a blast. That gave him an idea...

"Sarah? What do you say we do that again?" he asked with an evil glint in his eye.

"But I know what I'm gonna say now! Why do we need to practice again?"

Typical Sarah. Brandon smiled, and put his arm over her shoulders as he said, "No, Bunches. I mean, why don't we do what we did _on Friday night_ again..."

She suddenly shot him a look of pure amazement. "Do ... change again!" she asked, incredulously. "What, now!"

"No!" He looked to make sure his dad hadn't come up from the basement, then turned back to Sarah. Tickling her chin, he whispered, "No, Bunches. I mean, tomorrow night, you and me get together and ... do something." He leaned in, kissing her gently.

Sarah leaned into his embrace, lost in his kiss. "Mm ... mm hmm," she muttered. "Yeah, let's do that," she said dreamily when she came up for air.

* * *

A/N: I really have a friend who said, "See? I'm good at this math thing!" It was an honors class, too... .:shakes head sadly:. 

**Ekwy**: No, you can't have Brandon! The ultimate boyfriend ever is mine! .:huggles Brandon:.

**Eclectica**: Yay! Jellice for you! (though you may not wish it after what it has become)


	5. School Days

A/N: See? I don't neglect my stories! For very long...

And if it seems like it's going too fast, read more slowly.

* * *

It was settled. Brandon would stay home from the pack meeting ("Dad, can I skip the meeting?" "You know you won't be able to-" "Yeah, I know."), Sarah would go to the tribe meeting as usual ("Are you sure you can get through a conversation about Friday night?" "Hey, I can always say I'm putting in a contact!"), Brandon would come over to the junkyard ("It's next to a Walgreens and a Taco Bell, across the street from a Sherwin-Williams store." "So over by Main and Tenth Avenue?" "Yeah, but if you hit Lucky's, you went too far."), and Sarah would sneak away as soon as she could ("Can you get away without them noticing?" "Hey, I _am_ a cat, right!" "That's what I'm afraid of."). Then he would whisk them off to wherever they felt like going. 

Of course, there was still a whole day before the full moon. And, moreover, it was a school day. School had just started for the fall at the local high school where Sarah and Brandon were both juniors. They only had one class together, and in that class, they sat across the room from each other, but that didn't stop them from hanging out at break and lunch, sometimes accompanied by either of their groups of friends.

"Are you all right?" Brandon asked Sarah that Monday morning as he came upon her at her locker after fourth period.

"Yeah! Why shouldn't I be?" she said, pulling out her lunch and her chemistry book. "All we did was watch a movie in history, though that geometry test was kind of hard..."

"No, that's not what I meant," said Brandon. He looked furtively around the hallway to see if anyone was listening to them. "I mean, about _tonight..._"

"I can't wait!"

"Well..." Brandon was still hesitant. "Are you sure? I mean, I don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything."

"Why? Do you wanna call it off?"

"No! No, I really want to do it!"

Sarah looked confused. "Then why do think I might not be okay?"

Brandon smiled, a little embarrassed. "Well, I thought it might be a bit awkward, running off with me into the night, doing things ... that we wouldn't ever do if we weren't..." He gave her a pleading look. "You know..."

He was able to count to five, slowly, in his head before Sarah finally said, "Oh! Oh, I get it!" Then she brought her fist to her chin in a "thinking" motion. "Well, it's kinda weird, yeah, but I really wanna do it!"

"Do what?"

Sarah spun around and Brandon looked up to Madeline and Hannah standing right there, looking at Sarah expectantly. (Hannah also looked a bit shy; she was a freshman this year, and even the ever-popular Jemima had the right to be a little nervous, especially around older guys she didn't know.) "Do what?" Madeline repeated.

Sarah's eyes got really wide, and she stood dumb-struck for a moment, but Brandon stepped in with his awesome excuse-making skills: "Have lunch with me! It seemed a little weird because the cafeteria is closed today, but I thought we could eat on the grass, instead. Would you two lovely ladies care to join us?

Madeline and Hannah, flattered by the compliment, forgot any curiosity they might have had over Brandon and Sarah's conversation, and the four of them headed out toward the lawn. On the way, they chatted: "So what happened in Mr. Vizanko's class, Sarah?" Madeline asked (she was also a junior).

Sarah shrugged. "We just watched a movie. But then he gave us a quiz on it, and I probably didn't do too good, because I was kinda falling asleep." She stuck her tongue out for emphasis.

"Yikes, thanks for the warning," Madeline muttered. She'd have that class later that day.

"So, I never really got your name," Hannah said to Brandon while Madeline talked to Sarah.

Brandon smiled in a friendly manner. "I'm Brandon. I'm going out with Sarah."

"Oh!" she said. "So, did you just move into the city, and that's why I don't know you?"

Now he frowned. "No, I've lived in this city all my life. I know Sarah through the knitting class we both took this summer." (What! Guys can take knitting classes!)

Hannah frowned, and her eyes darted around as she thought aloud: "Oh! So she hasn't – and you're not – and you don't know -!" She clasped her hand over her mouth all of a sudden, her eyes grew to the size of saucers, and she gave a muffled gasp. "Oh!"

Brandon's frown deepened. He was willing to bet he could guess what Hannah meant by "you're not," and "you don't know." But he wasn't about to let Hannah know that. He quickly plastered on a fake smile and innocently asked, "Hmm? Is there something I should know?"

Hannah, her hand still over her mouth, looked up at him, shook her head fervently, and quickened her pace so as to catch up with Sarah and Madeline. Brandon shook his head and caught up to Sarah. Grasping her hand in his, he whispered in her ear, "Can I talk to you alone for a second?"

Sarah looked confused (as per her usual persona), but nodded hesitantly. Brandon raised his voice and said to the other two girls, "Why don't you guys go grab a spot the grass? I think I left my lunch in my locker." And without waiting for a reply, he steered Sarah back toward the main school building.

Once inside, they ducked under a stairwell. "Sarah," Brandon whispered bluntly, "Are Madeline and Hannah Jellicles?"

Sarah nodded ingenuously. "Yeah, they are." Only then did she stop to think. "Oh!" she gasped. "I shouldn't really have told you that!" she said grimacingly.

"No, no, it's okay, _I_ won't tell anyone," Brandon quickly reassured her. "I just sort of wish you'd told me sooner. It means I have to be more careful around them."

Still grimacing, she muttered, "But I'm really not supposed to tell _anyone_ about any of us! That was really dumb of me!" And she gave herself a little knock on the head for emphasis.

Brandon grimaced now. "Bunches," he whispered, "It's really important that you tell me who around us is Jellicle."

"Why?" she murmured.

"So I can be more careful!"

"Oh," she mumbled dejectedly. But then she perked up. "Can you tell me who's Pollicle?" she asked perkily.

Without thinking, Brandon hissed, "No! Of course not!"

Sarah pouted, put her hands on her hips, and said, "Well, why not? If I have to tell you, why can't you tell me?"

He opened his mouth to reply, but his words died in his throat. Why couldn't he tell Sarah? Obviously, because he couldn't betray the pack by handing such valuable information! But then, why did Sarah _have_ to do the same to her tribe for him? It made no sense, and yet, it did to him. It only seemed natural. But it still wasn't fair to her!

He'd have to think about it.

"Just don't worry for now," he said, taking her by the shoulders and giving her a quick kiss to reassure her. "It'll be fine. And _tonight_," - he gave her a longer kiss - "You and I," - another kiss - "Are going to have," - one more - "A _blast_."

As he drew away from her mouth, Brandon looked into her eyes, and was slightly alarmed to see that they had all of a sudden rolled almost all the way back into her head. She was slack in his arms and a bit pale, too. "Sarah?" he said, and shook her a bit to get her out of her stupor. "Sarah, are you okay?"

"Hmm? What?" she mumbled as she seemed to regain consciousness and stood on her own feet.

"Sarah, are you all right?" he asked with genuine concern. "You didn't look so good for a minute there."

"Mm, I'm fine," she mumbled. "But I'm hungry. Let's go." She took his hand to lead him out from under the stairs.

But he held her back. "Sarah, are you absolutely sure you're all right?" he asked. "You looked really sick."

"Really, I'm fine! Let's go!" she said, almost dragging him out towards the lawn. Reluctantly, he came along.

As they got outside and were walking out on the grass toward Hannah and Madeline, Sarah mumbled, "So, how're you coming to the 'yard tonight?"

"Hmm?" Brandon mumbled, confused.

"I mean, how are you going to get to the 'yard? Are you gonna walk?"

He shook his head, understanding now. "No, I'll drive. Then we can go wherever we want without getting weird looks on the street."

"Oh," she mumbled. "But, you know I'll be ... you know, changed, right?"

"Oh!" it was his turn to mumble. He thought for a moment, then said, "You can duck in the back seat. How's that?"

"Sounds okay."

Just then, Madeline and Hannah caught sight of them. "Hey, Sarah!" Hannah called, and jumped up to run over to them. But when she was only a few feet away from the couple, she tripped on a sprinkler head. She stumbled, losing her balance. Brandon, ever the chivalrous guy, stretched out his arms to catch her. She fell against his chest.

"Gotcha!" he cried, triumphant.

"GAH! OW!" Hannah cried, backing away as soon as she regained her balance. "What the heck was that!"

Sarah stared, at a loss as to why Hannah was crying out. "What's wrong?" she asked.

Hannah looked at Brandon accusingly, rubbing her shoulder where it had connected with his breastbone. "You shocked me!" she hollered. "That hurt! How'd you do that!"

"What's the problem? Are you okay, Hannah?" Madeline, asked, running over to where the three of them stood.

Brandon looked down at his chest, remembering just what he wore there so he wouldn't ... go primal. Was it his medallion that had hurt Hannah so distinctly, even through his shirt?

"Hey, it was probably just a little static electricity, nothing to worry about!" Brandon called, trying to let the whole thing blow over (not to mention ward off the weird looks they were getting from the other people seated on the grass).

Madeline looked at him funny. "Static? Out on the lawn?"

Brandon shrugged, to convey "anything's possible!"

Madeline shrugged, put her arm around the weirded-out Hannah, and led the way back to their spot to eat lunch.


	6. A GetTogether

A/N: What happened to our fandom? It seems to have died in the wake of school ending and finals and things. So, I'm doing my part and updating my story. Please, people, follow my lead! I need more fanfiction!

* * *

The rest of the day passed without incident. When school was over, Sarah went home with her carpool, and Brandon drove himself home to get an early start on his homework. They didn't get any chance to talk to each other, even by phone, considering how much homework they both had. Thus, Sarah didn't hear Mark as he came into her room to lean on the door frame much later that evening. "Sarah, I'm taking Dad's car to the 'yard," he said calmly. "Do you need a ride?" 

Sarah fell out of her desk chair. From the floor, she glared up at the clock and practically yelled, "Already? What time is it!"

Mark, ignoring the fact that she'd simultaneously looked at the clock and asked what time it was (for he knew his sister well), simply went over to her window and opened the blinds. "It's already dark out, Sarah," he said. "The moon will be out in an hour." He shivered; looking out the window, even without the full moon having risen yet, was a little difficult to handle without changing. "If you want me to be able to drive with hands instead of paws, then yeah, I think it's time to go."

"Oh!" she said, somewhat relieved. She stood, and closed her history book with a quick motion. "Well, I guess I won't have to do _that_ tonight!"

Mark only rolled his eyes and muttered, "Oh, c'mon!" They both headed downstairs.

Passing the kitchen, Sarah caught sight of their parents talking softly to each other. Upon noticing that their children had come downstairs, they both stopped cold and stared at them, a sure sign that they had been talking about more than the weather. Mark, undeterred, approached them and said, "We're leaving now. Can I have the car keys?"

"Yes, of course," Mr. Forsworth mumbled, a bit too politely, and went to fetch the keys. Sarah and Mark's parents were not Jellicle themselves, but they both came from families with one or two Jellicle relations, so it was not a big surprise when Mark had changed into Pouncival at the dinner table when he was three. Wait, actually, no, it was a big surprise, but at least Mr. and Mrs. Forsworth had had sense enough not to call the police. While Sarah and Mark were growing up, they had been taken to monthly get-togethers by other families, and now that they were old enough to take themselves there, they were able to go alone. Their parents were fairly cool with it. But still, it was awkward for the family to be all together sometimes, especially on occasions when their differences were apparent.

"Here you go," Mr. Forsworth muttered, finally returning with the keys. "You can take the van. But I want it back in one piece." Mark nodded, and he and Sarah started heading for the garage.

"Be safe!" their mom called after them. "Don't talk to strangers! And try not to let anyone see you!"

Sarah looked back at her mother to give her a pleading look, then continued with her brother to the garage, all anxiety soon forgotten in her excitement that the full moon was finally here! Not to mention who was going to be showing up at the party...

As they finally drove close to the high junkyard wall, Mark parked around a corner, and they both approached the gate, wary of anyone who might be watching. Mark dug his his pockets for his key. When his initial search proved fruitless, he whispered, "Ah, Sarah? Did you bring your key?"

"Me?" she whispered back. "I thought you were bringing yours!"

"Well, I must have left it at home or something!"

"Did you leave it in the car?"

"No, I could have sworn I had it in my pocket!"

"Well how are we going to get in!"

"Not a problem! Step aside, kits!"

Sarah and Mark both turned to see Peder Buren swaggering up to the gate, with a large squirming bundle wrapped in a blanket in his arms. "Peder!" Sarah called, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks, "What're you doing here!" (Yes, this was the best thing she could think of to say.)

Peder gave her a weird look. "Same reason as you, Etcetera."

Sarah, who could almost feel her tail growing at the mention of her Jellicle name, could only blush harder. True, she was deeply in love with Brandon, but it was still hard to get over _the_ Rum Tum Tugger.

Mark, changing the subject, gingerly said, "Ah, Peder? Do you think you could open the door?"

"Step aside! I have everything under control!" he repeated, bordering on arrogant. Coming up to the door, he pulled a golden key out of his pocket with one hand and neatly inserted it into the look and turned. The door opened as smooth as butter. Peder turned back to the two and smiled. "So, now that that's settled, what say we go in?"

As the three of them strode inside the junkyard toward the areas where toms and queens had their separate areas to change, Mark idly asked, "So, ah, what have you got there?" He gestured to the bundle Peder held in his arms.

"Ah, yes! Well, I guess I can unwrap you now, can't I?" he said, speaking to the bundle. He carefully unwrapped the blanket from the top-most portion of the bundle, and Jyestha's little head popped out with a "Bah!" "Martha Joy couldn't quite contain her excitement in the car," Peder explained, "So I had to get her in here somehow without letting anyone see her." He carefully extricated the kitten from the blanket and set her down on the ground, where she immediately ran off toward the central clearing of the junkyard. "Don't worry, she knows the way," he said when Sarah would have run after her.

"Ah," Sarah mumbled, but ran off after her anyway. She couldn't stand being around Peder anymore, because she was too afraid she'd regain her monumental crush on him. And then what would become of Brandon?

Speaking of Brandon...

Sarah slowed her pace. A wicked smile crossed her face, and she ran off again in the direction of the area where the queens changed.

* * *

Mark watched his sister run off, slow down, then run off in another direction. He scratched his head. She had been acting so oddly lately! Especially since Friday night, she hadn't been acting herself. Actually, ever since she had met Brandon, it seemed like she had been acting oddly. Speaking of odd, it was really odd that she hadn't realized that night had come so soon, he thought to himself. He himself had counted down the minutes until the time when he could get to the 'yard and change to his true form. She must have had something else on her mind, and something besides homework, too! 

He sighed as he ducked behind a junkpile to change. Maybe he ought to keep an eye on her, at least for tonight.

* * *

As he heated up a can of soup for his dinner, alone in his house, Brandon tried to ignore the itching burn to take off his medallion. The moon was getting to him. Still, he'd told Sarah he'd come by the junkyard at ten o'clock, and he knew if he took off the medallion now, he'd never have the strength to put it back on to be able to drive to the junkyard. So, he sat in front of the tv, eating soup, and counting down the minutes until he could drive toward that almost abandoned part of town...

* * *

**A/N: Eponine**: Get your mind out of the gutter! Brandon is the most perfect boyfriend ever! He wouldn't make Sarah have sex with him! (at least not yet ... it depends on what sorts of twists the plot shall take ... which I haven't decided yet.) 

And kudos to everyone who figured out that the guys were playing Super Smash Bros. Melee!


	7. Under the Moon

A/N: Well, yeah. This took a while. So it's extra long to compensate. Enjoy.

* * *

About an hour later, Etcetera was running through the junkyard, trying to find a hiding space where Jemima wouldn't find her. She may have been almost an adult by human standards, but as far as hide and seek was concerned, she was still a kitten! (Really, hide and seek was irrestible when in Jellicle form. It was so much more challenging when you could usually sniff out whomever you were looking for.) "Ready or not, here I come!" Jemima could be heard calling in the distance. Etcetera needed to find a hiding spot, now! 

Spying a hollow industrial strength washing machine, Etcetera scrambled into it, only to realize a second later that it was already occupied. "Hey, what're you doing on my tail!" Electra cried. She pouted indignantly at Etcetera, and wrapped her arms around the neck of the other occupant of the washer, Mistoffelees. "Misto and I were having fun..." she pouted.

Etcetera grimaced. She didn't want to be around any kind of fun those two might be having. "Sorry, guys," she muttered and turned to leave. "I'll go now."

"Thank you," Misto mumbled between the kisses he placed on Electra's mouth. "Good thing, too. It's getting late, and I don't want to miss any time with you, my dream cat..." His voice faded out as he became smothered by his girlkit's love.

That stopped Etcetera dead in her tracks. "Getting late!" she squeaked, panic evident on her face. She whirled around and almost screamed at the pair in the washer: "What time is it!"

Electra sat up, clearly annoyed. "Not that I'm wearing a watch, but it's probably about ten," she guessed. "But why do you care? It's the moon! Enjoy yourself!"

"I have to go!" she did scream this time, and, offering no explanation, rushed off as fast as her legs could take her toward the nearest junkyard wall.

"Now that that's settled..." Mistoffelees uttered as he reached up to bring Electra down toward him for another kiss.

But Electra stayed put sitting up. "She shouldn't have anywhere to go on a full moon, should she?" she asked of the tom below her.

Misto smirked. "No, but why does it matter?"

"Well, she's just been acting kind of weird lately, and –"

"Have you seen my sister!" Pouncival interrupted, sticking his head into the washer. "I lost track of her when she hopped the ironing board, and I can't find her!"

Mistoffelees gave up. He'd never get to enjoy the time with his girlfriend. Sitting up, he answered, "Yes, we did. She was just here a second ago, in fact. Didn't you hear her? She said she had to go somewhere and took off."

"She took off?" Pouncival repeated. "Where was she going?"

"That'a'way," Electra said, rising and pointing in the direction Etcetera had taken. "She just said, 'I have to go!' and took off!"

Pouncival scratched his head. "That's weird. She didn't tell me she was going anywhere. I'm worried about her. I'm going to go follow her." And he turned to go find his sister.

But Electra grabbed his arm. "Wait, I'll come with you. She's been acting really weird," she said with genuine concern. She turned to the other washer occupant. "Mistoffelees, you're coming, too."

"Do I have to?" he complained like a kitten as he was dragged to his feet.

"Yes, you do. We might need you," Pounce agreed. "Let's go."

* * *

Etcetera checked all around her to make sure there was no one nearby before scaling the junk piled against the wall closest to the gate. She was kind of rushed (a quick look at her watch which she had left with her clothes had told her it was already 10:10), but being an agile queen, it wasn't that difficult for her. Though when she got to the top, she realized that she had the other problem of getting down: there was no handy rubbish on the other side of the wall to climb on. Gritting her teeth, she prepared to jump to distance from the top of the wall to the ground. 

A hushed voice pierced the relative darkness: "Etcetera!" Startled, she lost her balance, and landed with an undignified thump on the ground. Through the stars that clouded her vision she barely made out the form of Brandon rushing over. "Etcetera! I'm sorry!" he hissed, constantly looking about him to make sure no one was around. "I didn't mean to do that! I'm sorry! C'mon, let's get you back to the car!"

He deftly picked her up into his arms, and gently brought her back to the cab of his truck, which he had been waiting in not fifty feet from where the queenkit had emerged over the wall. The gentleness was a bit uncalled for, however, considering that Etcetera was really very much able to walk on her own paws. But, considering the ... _circumstances_, she was content to be carried.

"Are you all right?" Brandon whispered as he laid her in the backseat of his truck.

"I'm fine, really Brandon!" she muttered, a bit lovestruck. "Really, I'm all right. Let's go!"

"Are you sure? You looked like you landed pretty hard back there!"

"I'm fine! Really!"

"Are you absolutely sure!"

"Yes!"

"All right," Brandon muttered, without moving. He stayed where he was for a minute, gazing at his Jellicle girlfriend. Etcetera stared back, a little awkward at being looked at for so long. Finally, Brandon whispered, "Let's go then," and climbed out of the cab to go get in the driver's seat. "So where are we going?" he asked as he hopped in and buckled up.

Etcetera remained where she was in the back. "I don't know. Anywhere we can be alone," she muttered, gazing up at the full moon through the glass of the rear windshield.

"My place then?" Brandon offered. "No one's home all weekend." Etcetera agreed, and Brandon started the truck, preparing to wisk them off to a night of celebrating just what they were, and, consequently, a night they would never forget.

* * *

"C'mon! I think she came this way!" Pouncival called as he lead his little search party toward one of the outer walls. "I think I smell her scent coming from over here," he said as he let his nose lead the way. 

"Are you sure you can smell her?" Mistoffelees queried, incredulous.

"I know what my own sister smells like!" Pounce retorted. "Come on, I think we're almost there!"

Mistoffelees rolled his eyes, but still followed Pouncival and Electra until they reached a junk wall, where Pounce lost the scent. "Darn! Now where'd she go!" he muttered, frustrated.

Electra looked up at the rubbish. "Do you think she could have climbed up there? It looks like you could get over the wall from that high," she said, estimating the distance to the top.

"Only one way to find out," Pounce muttered, and began to mount the large rubbish pile. Electra followed suit. When Pouncival peeped his head over the junkyard wall, he looked out for any sign of Etcetera, but swore at what he saw instead. "Oh, shit," he mumbled.

"Isn't that Brandon's truck?"

Pounce started at the sudden voice in his ear, and bared his claws in surprise. "It's only me," Misto reassured him. The tuxedo tom was cool and collected, having avoided the exhausting climb by simply teleporting to the top of the wall. Electra climbed up and poked her head over the wall on the other side of him, so that Misto was in the middle.

"Damn, don't do that! You scared me, man!" Pounce hissed.

"Sorry. But isn't that Brandon's truck?" he muttered anxiously, all annoyance swept away in the realization of what seemed to be taking place before his eyes.

"It is," Electra whispered. "You ... don't think she ... told him, do you?" she moaned.

Pouncival squinted, trying to see the long distance. "Well, she's in the truck with him, so I'm thinking probably yes. Shit." And he started climbing over the wall to get to her.

But Misto stopped him. "What do you think you're doing?" he hissed. "You'll be seen!"

"Seen by who?" Pounce retorted. All caution had been thrown to the wind in his determination to save his sister from the certain public exposure of her felinity.

"Does it matter? You can't go out there in Jellicle form! Someone is bound to see you! And we don't want to have to deal with _you_ ratting out on us to the City Council to save your skin," Electra hissed now.

Pouncival looked on futilely as the truck started up. "But they're leaving!" he uttered. "We have to follow them somehow!"

"No arguments there," Mistoffelees muttered. Swiftly, he grabbed Pouncival's shoulder with one paw, and Electra's with the other. Not giving them time to think, he ordered, "When I count to three, close your eyes, hold your breath, and think of nothing but being in the bed of that truck!"

"But Misto -"

"Just do it! One, two three!"

And with that, Pouncival's breath hitched in his throat as he slammed his eyes shut and concentrated as hard as he could on the big black truck bed. He was intensely cold for a second, and his heart pounded in his ears, but when he opened his eyes he felt metal under his paws and wind whipping over his fur. "Get down!" a voice ordered, and without thinking, Pounce got down on his belly so as not to be seen by the driver of the truck.

"That was close."

As he got his bearings, Pouncival found himself safely in the back of the truck (which had stopped at a red light), lying down in close proximity to Electra, who had Mistoffelees on her other side. "Misto, did you have to do that?" she muttered.

"Yes," he replied, just as softly. "What else would you have had me do? Watch them drive off?"

Electra was quiet. Pouncival shivered. "Did it have to be in the back? Why couldn't we be _in _the truck! Where it's warm!" he demanded.

Mistoffelees smirked. "What? And have them see you? Sorry, no," he answered. But he did turn to his side and lift up what appeared to be a large blanket. "But we should cover ourselves up anyway. If only so we're not seen by tailgaters."

Pounce sighed in relief. Finally one thing had gone right. As he spread the blessed relief that was a blanket over the three of them, he muttered, "Misto? Was this here already, or did _you_ make it get here?"

"Don't you wish you knew."

"Hey, Pouncival?" Electra asked. "Does Brandon have a dog?"

"A dog?" he repeated. "No, I don't think so." Jokingly, he added, "Would I let _my_ sister date someone with a _dog_?"

"Just asking," she replied. "Because I swear it smells like dog back here!"

* * *

Brandon remained relatively silent for most of the car trip back to his house. He had a lot on his mind: first and foremost, what fun they were going to have, just the two of them, plus the moon. But also, the very fact of their relationship was clinging around his thoughts. It was still a mystery to him how a Pollicle and a Jellicle, two beings who should be mortal enemies, had managed to fall in love! Yet he couldn't deny it; in love he certainly was. 

Though it had felt awkward, carrying Sarah – no, Etcetera - back to the car. She was undeniably feline, and he had felt a bit ill-at-ease holding her in his arms. Natually, he had never been much of a cat lover.

"You sure you're all right?" he called back to the back seat. "You looked like you hit your head pretty hard!"

"I'm fine!" she said from her hiding place. "It's not like I've never hit my head before!"

That, Brandon could believe.

_thump_

"Hey, did you hear that?" Brandon asked, a little unnerved, but still keeping his eyes on the road. "I thought I heard something."

"Nope, I didn't hear anything. Why, what was it?"

Brandon shivered. "I thought I heard something in the truck bed. Maybe I should pull over and check it out."

Etcetera rolled her eyes. "There's nothing back there! Let's go! I want to get there while the moon is still out!"

Brandon shrugged. He was probably just a little jumpy anyway, what with hauling a fully feline Jellicle in his truck!

* * *

Brandon smiled as he pulled into his driveway. Home sweet home. "Bunches?" he murmured to the back seat. "We're here." 

"Really?" a voice said as Etcetera's head popped up. "That was quick!"

"I was speeding," Brandon mumbled. He unbuckled his seatbelt and turned around in his seat, handing her his coat. "Here, put this on so we can get into the house with no one noticing."

"Into the house! Why don't we go out to your backyard? I want to be under the moon!"

He turned to her to argue, but his eyes locked with hers, and his words died in his mouth. "Fine," he whispered. "Go ahead and get into the backyard. I'm going into the house to ... change."

* * *

When he no longer heard voices, Mistoffelees gingerly lifted their blanket off and peered around the unfamiliar neighborhood. "Pouncival, do you know where we are?" he asked. 

Pounce opened his mouth to reply, but Electra beat him to it. "This is Brandon's house," she whispered. "But why would he bring her to his house? If he knows what she is ..."

"Hey, I think she just went into the backyard," Pounce interrupted, peering over his shoulder, being careful not to be seen. He was right: his sister's tail could be seen as she slipped over the back fence. "Let's go," he said, starting to climb out of the truck, but Misto stopped him.

"You want her to see you? Don't follow her!"

"Then how are we going to ..."

Electra wasn't really listening. She was evalutating the situation. They couldn't follow Etcetera over the fence without her seeing them, but that didn't mean they wouldn't be able to find out what was going on. There was a large pine tree that she could see, which overlooked the yard, but pine needles didn't look very friendly. Though the roof of the house was relatively flat...

"Misto?" she whispered, "Do you think you can get us up to the roof?"

Mistoffelees looked up to where she was pointing and grinned evilly. Again, he put one paw on Electra's shoulder and the other on Pouncivals. "You remember the drill," he murmured. "Close your eyes and think really hard of being on the roof."

Electra followed his instructions to the letter (for she knew to listen to a magical cat when he was going to do a spell), but when she opened her eyes, she was annoyed to find prickly needles digging into her fur!

"Misto! What did you do? We're in a tree?"

"I'm sorry! I don't know what happened! I didn't mean to!"

"Actually, it's my fault. I guess I was thinking about how funny it would be if we landed in the tree."

"Pouncival!"

"Hey, shush! There she is!" Mistoffelees cautioned. He gestured to the backyard below them. Etcetera was there all right, running around and using more of the seemingly endless wellspring of energy she seemed to have.

"Well, there _she_ is," Pounce muttered. "But where's Brandon? I hope he's not calling the police or something..."

Suddenly, Electra's breath caught in her throat. Her eyes grew wide, and she slowly gestured to the screen door of the house and mumbled, "There he is..."

"That's not Brandon, that's a – Everlasting Cat!"

Pouncival had been about to say "dog," but he was suddenly interrupted by the dog moving to stand up on two legs. Now, he could see that the dog really had the shape of a man, or more specifically, a teenager. Etcetera ran to him, and nuzzled him lovingly. Together, they strode to the center of the yard, where Etcetera suddenly tagged him on the shoulder and ran like crazy. He growled playfully, and they began a spirited game of tag, except with nuzzles instead of tagging.

Pouncival could only stare the entire time. Finally, he muttered, "No, tell me he's not..."

"I think he is," Misto finished for him. "I think Brandon is really a Pollicle."

* * *

Back in the junkyard, Jemima still walked around, scratching her head, and occasionly poking through the rubbish. "Wow, Etcy's _really_ good at hide and seek..." she mumbled.

* * *


	8. At The Attic

A/N: What, does no one like spinoffs? Because it seems like no one reads this. Well, I still like this story, so I'm finishing it, whether you like it or not!

And updates might come less frequently in the near future, as Mystitat still needs to figure out how she's going to get where she wants to go with this story, and not to mention that she finally got a job! But that means Mystitat will have less free time ... but she will have more money! D (Someone out there is saying: what? you mean updates are coming frequently NOW?)

* * *

"Well, what're we gonna do?" Madeline mumbled. She, Mark, and Greg were in The Attic after school the next day. Mark had thought it best that they not talk about it or do anything until the three of them had gotten a chance to talk privately. And considering there were rarely any customers in the antique store Greg worked in, they were fairly sure they would have some time to themselves. 

"I don't know," Greg answered, staring at his feet. He then looked up at Mark. "Are you sure she has no idea we saw her?" he queried.

"I'm sure. She doesn't know," Mark murmured. Greg – well, Mistoffelees – had transported them back to the junkyard last night before Etcetera had a chance to notice them. They all went home soon after, except Pouncival, who had had to wait for his sister to return, and pretend that he hadn't known she was gone. They were the last ones to leave the 'yard. "She actually kept saying she was playing hide and seek all night with Hannah. If I didn't know, I might have believed her."

"Really?" Madeline suddenly questioned. "She lied well enough for you to believe her!" Mark nodded, echoing Madeline's amazement. They both knew how terrible Sarah usually was at lying. "Wow."

"I know," Mark said. Then his mind turned back to the question at hand. "But ... what about Brandon? I didn't even think there still were Pollicles!"

"There aren't supposed to be," said Greg. "I mean, from everything I've heard from Solomon, the Pollicles were all wiped out by the Hunters. I mean, come on, they're dogs, right? How smart can they be!" He rolled his eyes for emphasis.

"Well, apparently, smart enough to avoid the hunters, and us, too!" Madeline said. "I wonder how many of them there are!"

"Who cares how many of them are out there! We have one to worry about!" Mark said, somewhat annoyed. "And he's dating my sister! That's not right!"

"Well, what are we going to do?" Madeline chimed in. "Get them to break up? I don't think so. It took quite a guy to get Sarah away from Peder, and I don't think she'd break up with him without a pretty darn good reason."

Greg sighed. "You don't think the fact that he's a Pollicle is a pretty good reason?"

"Good point," Madeline said, grimacing. Then she added, "But think about it: she already knows what he is. Apparently, it hasn't stopped her yet."

"So what are we going to do?"

"I don't know."

They all sighed in unison. This was going to be tougher than they'd thought. Suddenly, Mark started snickering. Madeline and Gregory stared. Mark kept on snickering. "What's so funny?" Madeline finally asked when she could hold in her curiosity no longer.

"It's just – I just realized," Mark said through laughs, "That's probably why Sarah was smelling weird last weekend. Brandon must have been rubbing off on her!"

Greg still stared. "Why is that so funny?" he asked.

Mark stopped laughing and looked a little embarrassed. "I don't know. I just thought it was funny."

They sat in silence for another moment. Finally, Madeline asked for the umpteenth time, "Well, what are we going to do?"

"I don't know!" Mark cried in frustration. "Do you think – I don't know – maybe Pollicles have like, a secret weakness or something! Like Superman with kryptonite! Maybe they can't stand – I don't know – cat treats or something!"

Again, Madeline and Greg could only stare. "Mark, you do know Superman's not real, right?"

"You know what I mean!"

"Still!"

"Wait, guys," Madeline interrupted. "What do you think the chances are that the Pollicles have a 'secret weakness'? It's not like they're comic book villains, or something."

Mark shrugged. "It's worth a try. We could ask Solomon!"

"Yeah," Greg agreed. "Hey, we're Jellicle, and there are some weird things about us! Like ... you have bizarre fascination with scratching upholstery!" he accused, smiling.

Madeline glared at her boyfriend. He'd promised never to repeat that. "Greg, you like fluttery things and you know it!" she countered.

"You can't stop staring at your fishtank!"

"You tried to take me on a date to Petsmart!"

"You enjoyed it!"

Mark rolled his eyes. "Guys, the point is, why don't we ask Solomon about Pollicles? Until then, we don't tell anyone what we know. Agreed?"

Everyone agreed. "But wait a minute," Madeline added. "Do you think we could wait until the end of the week or so? I heard that Solomon isn't going to be in the city until this weekend. Something about taking a vacation to England to meet this vicarage friend, or something."

Greg rolled his eyes now. "Isn't that perfect. The one week of the year he goes away, and we find out in the city there's a Pollicle!"

"A Pollicle?" a voice from the vicinity of the door asked. "Did someone say something about a Pollicle?"

The three of them jumped up from behind the store shelves they had been hiding behind to see who had just heard that tidbit of information. Coming through the door were Jack Isaacs and Andie Regan. "What about Pollicles?" Jack repeated. The notorious duo had matching mischievous smiles on their faces.

"Pollicles!" Mark said, trying valiantly to think of something believable. "We were talking about Pollicles ... like ... the Awefull Battle of the Pekes and the Pollicles!" He nodded vigorously to Greg and Madeline.

Greg caught on. "Oh ... yeah!" he agreed. "We were just ... trying to figure out who's going to be the Rumpus Cat next year! After all, we're going to need a new one, right?"

Andie grimaced. "Ugh, don't remind me of Earl. He caused enough trouble for one year."

"Agreed," Greg said. He quickly regained his composure and calmly stepped out from behind the shelves. "So, what can I do for you two?" he asked suavely.

Jack smiled wickedly. "Well, we seem to have found ourselves with this gorgeous antique jewelry box, and we have nothing to do with it!"

Mark and Madeline looked on suspiciously, but Greg said, "Well, just bring it on in. I think I'd be able to convince the boss to have a look at it." He was about to turn around, but suddenly turned back and asked, "Actually, does it still have jewels in it?"

Jack smiled ridiculously. "Naw," he said, "We're keeping those. Teazer just couldn't keep her paws off 'em." Andie turned red and promptly slapped him.

Greg rolled his eyes. "Well, all right. But you could get a better price if it actually had jewelry in it. It _is_ a jewelry box, right?"

They laughed over it a bit, exchanged goodbyes, and Andie and Jack left. Mark and Madeline exchanged a look. "Greg?" Madeline finally asked. "Why were Andie and Jack in here?"

Greg looked at her funny. "Why shouldn't they be here?"

Mark got more to the point. "Greg, were they trying to sell stolen stuff?"

Greg, accused (and slightly guilty), rolled his eyes and shrugged. "Hey, they're in here a lot!" he said. "What did you think they did with all the stuff they got?"

* * *

A/N: Eponine: Not my fault! Read "In the City."  
Sillyph: Sillyph::glomp: Where have you been for so long! Get back on JM! 


	9. Cafeteria Lunch, and Tugger!

A/N: See! I don't neglect my stories! ... much ... The last part down there I did solely for fun, and because I love little tiny kittens!. It's not really going to have any bearing on the plot. I just wanted a longer chapter, and that's all I could think of. Anyways, as always, enjoy!

* * *

Sarah smiled sleepily as Brandon slid into the seat next to her. It was lunch the next day, and the cafeteria had been reopened. It was still a little dusty from the repairs the janitors had been doing, so the majority of students still chose to rough it out on the grass, which meant that Brandon and Sarah would be able to talk without being overheard. 

"How're you feeling?" Brandon asked as he readjusted his tray of slightly mushy cafeteria food.

Sarah poked at her own lunch with a fork. "Kinda sleepy," she muttered. But then she smiled up at him. "Really good though," she mumbled.

He smiled back, his mind still on the events of the previous evening. They hadn't done anything _naughty_ per se, but it was still more fun (not to mention more exciting and risqué) to be together in their true forms. "That's good," he said through a yawn. Taking a bite of macaroni and cheese, he asked, "You didn't have any problems with your family, did you?"

Sarah shook her head. "Nope. Almost everybody was gone when I got back, and I just went home with Mark. And ya' know, I think he really believed me when I told him I was playing hide'n'seek with Jemi all night!"

Brandon was curious as to who exactly "Jemi" was, but decided to keep quiet. "So I guess the lying lessons paid off, eh?" he asked. She nodded proudly, beaming. Brandon continued: "That's good. Maybe we should keep that up?"

She winced. "I dunno. Maybe." She sat for a moment in silence, poking at a cold-ish bowl of chicken-flavored ramen, seemingly in rapt contemplation over something or another. Finally, she looked around, then whispered hesitantly, "Brandon, I don't want to keep it a secret!"

"You don't want to keep what a secret?"

"What you are."

"Bunches!" he cried out, almost leaping out of his chair. "Are you crazy!" He then peered around the cafeteria, disturbed to see that some were staring at him and his sudden outburst. He grimaced, settled down in his chair again, and said a little more quietly this time, "Bunches! You can't be serious! You can't tell people what I am – or what you are, for that matter!"

She rolled her eyes, frowning. "No, not like, people!" she whispered. "Just, like, my friends! The tribe! Other Jellicles!"

"You seriously want to let others know what I am?"

"Hey, we're a little different, too, in case you haven't noticed! And it's not like we never keep secrets from the humans!"

"Bunches! You can't!"

"Well, why not? You could tell Pollicles about me, if you wanted!"

Suddenly, Brandon's expression changed from outrage to cold sadness. He turned away and said, "It's not that simple."

Sarah, now concerned, poked his shoulder and queried, "Well, why not!"

He turned back to her, pleading with her eyes. "Sarah, think about this," he said very quietly. "You're a cat. I'm a dog. Think about it. It would be like the Capulets and the Montagues, or the Hatfields and the McCoys, or the Sharks and the Jets, or the Klingons and the Romulans. Think about it. Would any Jellicles you know really approve of you being with me?" She looked at the floor, seeming to think, but Brandon pressed on: "They wouldn't. They can't even know about us Pollicles for just that reason. If they knew about us, Bunches, there would probably be war."

She looked up at him sharply. "_War!_" she cried, incredulously._  
_

"Well, maybe not _war,_" he hedged, "but there would at least be fights. Maybe enough that the humans would notice. And then we'd have last summer all over again, only this time, _we_ would be involved, too."

Sarah looked at the floor again, thinking over his words. Finally, she slowly wrapped her arms around his neck and put her head on his shoulder. "I don't want that to happen," she whispered.

Brandon (who could have sworn he felt wetness where she was resting on his shirt), held her close to him, comforting her. "Me neither," he whispered, "Me neither." But most of what he'd said was true. If Jellicles were to find out that Pollicles still existed, who knew what those crazy cats might do! They were _cats_, for crying out loud! Not to mention that if the Pollicles found out that the Jellicles knew about them, they might just decide to do something about it themselves, like maybe taking out the dumb Pollicle that had told on them. And Brandon definitely didn't want that!

It was all those dumb Hunters' fault, he decided. If it weren't for them, then maybe his Pack wouldn't have to be so careful, and maybe humans wouldn't be so afraid. Still, those were only maybes, and pretty big maybes at that. But maybe, just _maybe_ he wouldn't have to enjoy his glorious caninity only in a locked room, and maybe he wouldn't be forced to wear that stupid medallion all the time, being captive to it, controlling how and when he changed. They were really more trouble than they were worth nowadays, he decided also. Considering that they didn't really need them when they were under the moon, why use them anymore? If one was to be lost accidentally, or stolen, its Pollicle possessor would be at the mercy of it, and unable to change back without it!

Although, he thought as he held his Jellicle girlfriend in his arms ... Sarah had been able to change without one. All the Jellicles must have been able to. She'd said back on that fateful night three days before the moon that it had something to do with names, but he still really had no idea what that would mean.

That gave him an idea.

"Bunches?" he asked softly. Sarah looked up at him wide-eyed. "Bunches, do you think you could ... teach me to ... change?"

She looked at him really weird now, completely confused as to what he was talking about. "Teach you to change?" she questioned. "But you can already change! What do you want me to –"

"No," he interrupted her. "I mean, like, you know, teach me to change without the medallion. You do it, don't you?"

"Well, duh," she looked at him like it was obvious.

"Well, can you teach me?"

She looked down yet once more, thinking it over. Finally, she said, "Well, I guess I could try!"

* * *

"Martha Joy!" 

"No!"

"Come on, Martha Joy!"

"Nuh uh!"

"Martha Joy Lisa Anderson-Buren!"

"Nooooo!"

Peder hung his head in frustration. It was 10:30, the night after the full moon, and Peder was exhausted. He kneeled at the edge of the futon-bed his little girl was now sitting proudly on. He had her for the week while Tracy was on a business trip, and he'd had explicit instructions that she was to be in bed by eight every night.

Well, so much for that. He might have been able to get Martha Joy to go to sleep, but Jyestha was a whole different story.

"Please?" he found himself begging to the kitten reigning over the futon. "Change back! Go to sleep!"

"No!" she called, smiling proudly. She was the one in control here, and she knew it. "No change! Jaysa!"

"Jyestha..." he moaned, correcting her. If she was to say her Jellicle name, she should at least learn eventually how to say it correctly. Straightening his shoulders, he sat up, looked her square in the eye, and commanded, "Martha Joy! Change now and go to sleep!"

But the kit only shook her head, grinning a huge grin. There was no way she'd change if she had anything to say about it!

Peder hung his head again. "Martha Joy ... change back," he mumbled feebily.

"No! Daddy change!"

He was about to protest, but two important points then struck his head which made him sit up abruptly. One, that he was trying to argue with a three and a half year old kitten who just wanted to get her way, and two, that she had an interesting point.

He looked at her curiously. "You want Daddy to change?" he questioned.

Jyestha nodded happily.

"And if Daddy changes, will Jyestha go to bed?"

Again, the little kit nodded. "But Daddy sleep here!" she said, slapping her paws on the futon.

Peder considered it a moment, then shrugged. If it would make her go to sleep finally, he'd be willing to spend the night a little furrier than usual. Quickly, he got up and ran around the house, closing all the blinds and double-checking all the locks on the doors and windows (he kept them locked all the time anyway, but it never hurt to make sure it was secure). Coming back to Martha Joy's room, he stopped just outside the doorway, making sure she couldn't see him. He took off his shirt, and was about to remove his pants too, when he recalled that that might not be such a great idea. After a little debate, he left them on. They were baggy pajama pants anyway, and wouldn't be as uncomfortable as how it would be if he changed back without anything on. That decided, he willed the change, beaming as he felt his bones rearranging and mane growing. Now in full feline form, the Rum Tum Tugger slowly stepped into his daughter's room.

"Daddy!" she squealed as he entered. He smiled; it was worth it now, to see his Jyestha happy like this. Delighted, she wriggled under the covers. Tugger went around the bed to lie down on top of the blankets on the other side. "Daddy..." she murmured as he settled down and put his arms around her.

"Will you go to sleep now?" Tugger asked.

Jyestha nodded, but said, "Tell story first! Kitty story!"

Tugger opened his mouth, about to protest, but then decided against it. He was too tired and exhausted to argue with her any more. And besides, it was good for her to hear the Jellicle stories.

Grinning, he began telling a tale: "The Pekes and the Pollicles, everyone knows..."

* * *

A/N: Lookattheauthorprofile: bows Thank you! I don't think I've ever received such high praise (at least for this story!). 


	10. Biology Class, and the Library

A/N: Sorry about taking so long to get this up. But see? I don't neglect my stories! (For too long, anyway...)

* * *

Ah, school. What a pain. At least, Sarah sure thought so, longing for the carefree days of summer while she sat bored in Ms. Meyerhoffer's advanced biology class.

"Now you know from last year that evolution is the result of natural selection; genetic mutations cause individuals to be at an advantage, they survive to reproduce, and the mutation is passed on to future generations. Now can anyone tell me ... "

Well, Sarah sure couldn't tell her. She was completely zoned out, lost in her thoughts. It wasn't that she wasn't trying to pay attention to the class; it was just that her attention span wasn't at its peak in fourth period. It wasn't her fault that she was badly in need of lunch.

Of course, there were other things occupying the little available space in her mind. For one, this was the one class of the day she had with Brandon. That always made it a little more fun (not to mention that it was a class where she could really use his help with homework). They did sit across the room from each other, though. That always made it a little less fun than it could have been.

"That would be mitochondrial DNA, ma'am." Sarah's ears perked up as she heard her boyfriend's voice. He must have answered one of the teacher's questions. At least one of them was paying attention in class.

Speaking of Brandon, Sarah still wasn't sure what to make of his request from the day before. He wanted her to teach him how to change, and well, it wasn't that she didn't want to help; it was more that she wasn't sure she could. After all, there were incredible differences between the two of them, and she wasn't sure if she would be good at teaching _anything_, let alone something that she didn't really know how to conciously do. Heck, she still had trouble changing by herself when there was no moon out! How in the world was she going to teach Brandon!

She sighed. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

Brandon sighed. After he'd answered Ms. Meyerhoffer's question, he'd seen Sarah's ears perk up at the sound of his voice, and that of course got him thinking of her, so now he was only half paying attention to the lecture. He wondered why she looked so sad. It looked like what irked her was a little stronger than the fact that school had just started, or that it was a long fourth period until lunch. Maybe a it was a combination of both? But it couldn't be that -

"Hey, if people come from apes, where do those cat-killer-creatures come from? Weird African cats or something!"

That got Brandon's attention, and Sarah's too if he judged her sudden shiver correctly. He watched in terror and anticipation as some loudmouth shot off in class and Sarah grew considerably more nervous.

Ms. Meyerhoffer looked indignant. "Humans are not descended from apes, Jason," she corrected. "It is likely that we share an ancestor, but we do not 'come from apes.' Now, class, as I was saying earlier," she continued, trying to get back on track.

"One moment please," Carolyn, the class brain interrupted (as she was prone to do), "You can't simply dismiss the claim. You and I both know that the Jellicle creatures exist. I think the class deserves an explanation. Where do they come from?"

Sarah was getting redder and redder ...

The teacher gave the class a hard look. "I am a science teacher. I can only teach about things that can be observed and documented. There is no documentation about Jellicles. Therefore I cannot teach about them. Moving right along," she tried again.

"Wait, I heard they go on a rampage on full moons!"

"I heard they have magic powers and can kill you just by looking at you!"

"Then why bother mauling someone?"

"I heard there are dogs like them, too!"

Brandon's eyes shot wide open. _Now_ it was personal.

"C'mon, guys!" he called, trying to get the class to chill out. "Think about it! _Cat_-people! You really think things like that exist! It's just some story the media made up because it was a slow summer!" He snorted. "I can't believe you guys really believed that! C'mon!"

All the students who'd been piping up with the things they'd heard suddenly fell silent. They had to admit, the whole idea _did_ sound kind of silly.

"Moving right along then..." Ms. Meyerhoffer tried once more, and the class, who was too embarrased to argue (Brandon _was_ pretty popular, and his opinion was respected), had to be content to listen to the rest of the lecture in silence.

Sarah shot Brandon a thankful look, then turned toward the front to try to get some notes from this whole mess.

* * *

"Are you okay?" Brandon asked Sarah as he caught up to her on her way to lunch.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she muttered, hoisting her backpack onto her shoulders. "Kind of nervous, but I'm okay."

"That's good," he said, running his hand through his hair. He continued as they walked toward the cafeteria, "Listen, do you want to come over to my place at the end of the week to ... do that thing we talked about?"

Sarah grimaced. She wasn't sure if she'd be able to help him at all ... but even if she couldn't, there would be no harm in trying, right? And besides, she always liked coming over to Brandon's house.

She looked up at him and smiled. "Sure. I've gotta check with my parents, but I'm sure they'll say it's fine."

"Oh, good," he replied, smiling the same pleasant smile she did. He then put his arm over her shoulders and nuzzled her head with his a bit, muttering, "I ... can't ... wait."

Whatever he'd just said, Sarah didn't hear a word. As Brandon had touched her, a woosy feeling flowed over her, making her very dizzy and disoriented. Overcome, she fell on the floor.

"Sarah? Sarah? Are you okay?" Brandon urged, shaking her shoulders.

Sarah's eyelids fluttered, and she shook off the feeling of disorientation. "Yeah, I'm fine," she muttered. She had no idea what had made her feel so dizzy, but she was hungry too, and eager to get to the cafeteria. Standing up, she said, sounding more like her usually self, "Well, let's go!"

Brandon didn't quite believe her when she said she was all right, but he did follow her to the cafeteria.

* * *

"No you have to do it with both fingers at least an inch apart."

"I'm positive it's perfectly admissable if the two fingers have enough space between them to fit a piece of paper."

"But the 'paper' is as thick as your palm."

"I said a piece of paper, not the 'paper.' There's a big difference. You know your palm is different than a piece of paper."

"But your hand represents the 'paper' of the game. In the game, the word 'paper' refers to the paper motion. Therefore, it refers to the thickness of your hand."

"I still say that the game is based on speed. Therefore, you should not have to exert so much effort to achieve optimum spread. Less effort should be admissible."

"But you cannot be lazy about it. Two fingers together means nothing."

Trust Kyle and Katrina Storke to argue over how far one's finger's must be spread apart to count as scissors in the game of Rock-Paper-Scissors.

Mark and Jeff watched from the other side of the library where the public-access computers were. "Those two need a hobby," Jeff muttered, returning to his game of Gunbound.

"You can say that again," Mark said from the computer across from Jeff's. Rather than goof off playing computer games though, he was doing a bit of research. Jeff was under the impression that he was doing research for homework, but what was displayed on his computer moniter might have proved differently had Jeff been able to see it.

He was currently perusing page ten of a google search, having turned up nothing on Pollicles. Most of the google entries had turned up pages full of nonsense-words with no information about what Pollicles actually were. But one particular entry caught his eye. The heading of it was simply "Pollicles" and the summary said something about, "The dogs you never knew existed." Mark, intrigued, was about to click on the link, when Jeff suddenly gasped, "Gah! It's past six! I was supposed to be home by five! Come on!" With that, Jeff got up from his computer chair and ran around to grab Mark. Mark only had just enough time to close the window so Jeff wouldn't see it before Jeff rudely grabbed him by the wrist and demanded, "Come on, you've got to drive me home!"

"Wait, I was in the middle of - !"

But he was interrupted by a shush followed by the eerie unison voices of the librarians: "Be quiet! There's no yelling in the library!"

"They _really_ need a hobby..." Jeff mumbled as he ran out the door, Mark in tow.


	11. Heading Over

Madeline sighed as she reached under he desk for cardstock on Thursday night. Scrapbooking soothed her. Of course, being a teenager, she also had music blaring and multiple IM conversations going at once. The familiar AIM chime dinged, and Madeline put down the gluestick to glance at her computer monitor.

It was Mark, aka _Pounced2Death_. "Do you think he's back yet?" he'd asked.

"Who?" Madeline typed back (as '_Lectrify'ya_).

"Solomon. It's almost the end of the week."

"Yeah, he's back."

"Don't you think we ought to go see him?"

"Yeah, definitely. ASAP," she typed out and hit _enter._ She had started to type, "Don't you think we should get – " when a soft rapping at her window made her jump. Speak of the devil...

Hastily, she got up from her computer chair and went over to open the window. "Get inside! It's freezing!" she exclaimed as Greg jumped over the sill and landed gracefully in her room.

Standing up, he muttered, "What, are you not glad to see me?"

She rolled her eyes. "Actually, I was just talking ... er, typing about you," she said, gesturing to her computer.

Greg strolled casually over and glanced at the monitor. "Hey, AIM! I haven't seen that in ages," he said, almost giggling. "I used to be quite the chatter, back in the day."

Madeline swatted at him. "Oh, come on!" she exclaimed. "One, I don't believe you. Two, you're not that old. And three, if so, then what was your screenname?"

Greg opened his mouth to reply, but then thought the better of it. "Eh, that doesn't matter. So what was Mark saying?"

Ignoring him, she sat down in her computer chair and typed out quickly before he could stop her, "Hey, what was Greg's sn?"

The reply came back, "_Mr. Fleas_."

Greg stuck his tongue out. "Okay, haha, we all think it's funny. Okay. On to the reason I came," he said, settling down on her bedspread. "Solomon is back, you know..."

"I know," she mumbled while typing a response to Mark. "Mark and I were just talking about that. We should go tomorrow afternoon, after school."

* * *

Due to the hectic schedule of all high-schoolers in the first month of school or so, the rest of the week passed quickly for Sarah and Brandon. Before she knew it, Sarah was standing in front of her locker on Friday, trying to decide which books she would need for her homework over the weekend, when Brandon suddenly appeared on the other side of her. "About set?" he queried, balancing his own heavy backpack on one shoulder. 

Sarah nodded distractedly, wondering to herself whether she would _really_ need her history book to fill out a worksheet (it was a heavy book, after all!). Finally, she decided she didn't, zipped up her backpack, shut her locker, and nodded confidently, "Yeah, I'm ready. Mom and Dad know where I'm going. We're all set!"

Brandon smiled contentedly. "Good," he mumbled. As they ambled through the corridors, he mentioned, "It's a good thing my parents are away for the weekend." _Again_, he mentally added.

Sarah thought about that for a moment, then asked ingenuously (as was her custom), "Why?"

The dog opened his mouth to answer, but soon closed it as he recalled that they were still very much inside a school building crowded with teenagers eager to go home for the weekend. Perhaps not the best place to discuss caninity and/or felinity, you know? Instead he muttered, "Just because," and hoped that would settle it.

It seemed to. "Oh."

"Yeah."

They walked the rest of the way to Brandon's truck in awkward silence. As they approached the big black 4x4, Brandon stepped forward, opened the door, and put down the seat back so Sarah could hurl her backpack into the rear seat. "So, what is it exactly that you want me to do again?" Sarah asked once they were both inside and fumbling with seatbelts.

He grimaced. "Well," he said, choosing his words carefully, "Just ... teach me how to change."

"But you can change already!"

"Okay, let me rephrase that: teach me how to change back."

"But you can do that already, too!"

"Okay, once more: teach me how to change back without the medallion."

"Oh. Yeah, that might be a little harder..."

* * *

That same Friday afternoon, Greg waited in front of the local high school for Mark and Madeline by his black sports car (this was just his everyday ride; when you come from a family as rich as the Olsens, you can afford a couple of convertibles). They'd planned that he would pick them both up and they'd all head over to Solomon's modest house after school. Solomon didn't exactly know they were coming, but he was always home anyway, so that wouldn't be a problem. Now Greg cast his eyes over all the students streaming out of the main building. Some he recognized from the tribe, a few he remembered from when he was a student himself, but most he had never seen before. He attracted quite a few stares himself; an oddly white-blond guy dressed all in black leaning on a black sports car was certainly something to stare at. But being a spectacle was only entertaining for so long. Greg was seriously considering telepathically toying with the short pleated skirts some of the freshmen were wearing when his attention was grabbed by a female voice calling his favorite nickname: "Devil!" 

Greg looked, and found Madeline coming toward him. "Hey, what're you doing over here?" she questioned him, pretending to be angry, "I thought you said you'd be in the other side of the parking lot!"

"I couldn't find a space," he shrugged. Swiftly, he gathered her up into a fierce embrace and pressed his lips to hers. "I didn't think you mind," he said suavely, their noses almost touching.

She smiled; Greg could certainly be intoxicating when he wanted to be. "No, I don't mind," she mumbled happily.

"Oh good," he whispered, giving her one more peck. "Shall we be off?"

Mark observed the scene from the doors of the main building which he had recently vacated. He also observed the numerous stares the couple received (especially from female freshmen very jealous of Madeline at that moment). Under his breath, he mumbled, "This looks like a job for the Great Rumpus Cat! Too bad he's not here." In lieu of the great superhero, Mark sauntered over to Greg's car and announced, "Okay, I'm here! We can go now!"

Madeline looked a little disappointed, but they all climbed into the car and pulled out of the parking lot.

Once they were a little way from the school and had gotten through all the usual chatter one can conjure up when one is thinking of such a weighty matter as dog-people, Greg asked from the driver's seat, "So what exactly are we going to ask Solomon? About the Pollicles?"

"We're _not_ going to tell him we know one," Mark announced. "At least, not right away."

"Agreed," mumbled Madeline.

"So what are we going to ask him?" came Greg's response.

Mark grimaced. "Well, I think we should just ... you know, find out some general information, you know? See if we can find out how big of a threat Brandon is, you know?"

"I guess we could do that," said Madeline. Glancing at the road signs, she added, "It's a left up here, Greg."

"Hey, I know perfectly well how to get to Solomon's house!" replied Greg indignantly. "It's not like I haven't been there a million times!"

"Really?" mumbled Mark. "Actually ... I don't think I've ever been there before."

Madeline raised her eyebrows. "Oh? Well, you'll get to learn then. Because here we are."

* * *

"Wait a minute. He uses hairdryers to teleport?"

"Yeah, I think so! At least that's what it looked like. Maybe it was something else. But it really looked like he used hair dryers to make a big flash and a big escape!"

"... Wait a minute. How could hairdryers possibly assist in going anywhere?"

"I don't know! But they made a BOOM! And a BANG! And a big FLASH!"

Brandon shook his head amusedly. He wasn't sure what to make of the latest Jellicle story Sarah had just told him. Even after hearing the whole thing, he wasn't quite sure what the heck large rats, fishing nets, and hairdryers had to do with each other. "Ah, okay, Sarah," he said laughingly. "Let's leave it at that, okay? We're here."

Sure enough, Brandon pulled his truck into the garage of his family's home. He hopped out of the cab first and opened the door so Sarah could get out. She had a slightly distressed look on her face as she alighted on the ground. "You're really sure about this, Brandon?" she inquired.

He looked at her funny. "Of course I'm sure!" he replied. "What could go wrong?"

"Okay, if you're sure..." she muttered as they entered the front door.

* * *

"My, my, my, look who's come to see me," Solomon announced as he answered the knock at his door. "Please, please, come inside."

Mark nodded politely. "Thank you, Solomon."

"It's no trouble at all. Please, come and sit down." He led them to a comfortable sitting room, but went into the kitchen himself, returning with a plate of cookies. "Susan brought these over for me, but I cannot eat them. Too much sugar. Enjoy."

Madeline bit into a cookie politely. "They're quite good, sir."

He smiled the smile of a loving grandfather and said, "I'm glad. Now what can I do for you kittens?"

Mark, about to roll his eyes at the suggestion that they were still kittens, thought better of it and instead began, "Solomon, what can you tell us about Pollicles?"

Solomon raised his eyebrows. "Pollicles? I can tell you a bit about Pollicles. But why would you want to know?"

The three looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders simultaneously. "We're curious?" Madeline offered.

"Curiosity, eh?" he said grinningly. "I can sympathize. I've been quite prone to bouts of curiosity myself. But of course, we all know what curiosity did."

At that, everyone did roll their eyes.

"But enough of that. I can tell you some about Pollicles. What do you want to know? There's the basics. Pollicles used to live among humans as we do now, but - "

"I think we know that part, Solomon," Greg interrupted. "Do you think you could tell us ... well ... what were relations like between Jellicles and Pollicles?"

"Relations?" he asked, leaning back and scratching his chin. "Well, that's a tricky one. As far as I know, Pollicles and Jellicles avoided each other as long as we existed together. As you can imagine, creatures such as ourselves would not exactly mix. But it was never a problem to my knowledge. We were always superior to them in grace and concealment. Avoiding the Pollicles was not a difficult task. Although – wait, I think I may have a book. Let me go see if I can find it." And with that, he stood and left them to hunt through his modest bookshelves in the next room.

"Are you sure this was the right thing to do?" Madeline whispered.

"Definitely. If we're going to know what to do about Sarah and Brandon, this is the way to find out!" Mark whispered back.

Madeline cast a worried look around the room. "Maybe we don't have to do anything at all? They've been together for about a month! It hasn't posed any problems yet."

"Ah, here it is!" Solomon said, returning with a thick, leather-bound tome. "This is one of the oldest manuscripts of Jellicle history. This is actually what I was at the Vicarage for, if you can believe it," he said. "One of my dear friends was kind enough to entrust this book to my care. Now let's see if we can find any mention of Pollicles."

The three teens watched as the older man leafed through the book. It seemed to be more of a diary than a manuscript, containing records of the births, deaths, Balls, and general goings on of various Jellicle tribes in medieval times. There were lists and lists of names, maps of tribal gatherings, and even descriptions of various fur patterns. The kits could hardly contain their boredom as Solomon slowly checked the pages for mentioning of dogs.

"Solomon?" Greg asked when he felt he was going to burst. "Were there ever any magical Pollicles?"

The elder replied without even looking up. "Yes there were. Not nearly as powerful as yourself, Greg, or even the good Storkes, but there were some canines with some power."

"Ah," Greg murmured. "What sorts of things could they do?"

Solomon sat up now, thinking intently. "I _believe_ they were most adept at applying charms, and sometimes casting curses as well. But most of that is simply lost to lore, considering we have very little record of it." With that he returned to looking at page after page in the book.

When Madeline felt she could take no more, and was about to excuse herself, Solomon suddenly exclaimed, "Now that's very interesting!" The three nearly hovered over him, silently screaming for him to continue. "There's a record here," he said slowly, trying to interpret the ancient handwriting, "There's a record here of a Jellicle tom who died in human captivity. It says here that he was captured along with a Pollicle man, and they were kept together in the same cell. The humans could not explain the cause of his death, for he was fed well, and the Pollicle kept there also far outlived him. "

* * *

"Okay, Brandon. So ... are we going to practice in here, or should we go up to your room?"

"Actually, I was thinking we could go downstairs. There's a basement where the pack gathers sometimes on the full moon. The entrance is through the bureau in the guest room."

* * *

"It was discovered later that their prison was very near to a Pollicle tribal gathering area."

* * *

"What kind of a place is _this!_? It's ... it's kind of hot down here! And the smell is overpowering!"

"Smell? I don't smell anything..."

* * *

"The only determination his tribe could make was that it was the very proximity of the Pollicle dog that caused the tom's death."

* * *

"_Brandon, I can't breathe!"_


	12. They Meet Again

_Brandon, I can't breathe!

* * *

_ Kneeling over the fallen form of Sarah, Brandon could hardly breathe himself! He couldn't understand what had happened. He'd simply taken her into the basement, she'd mentioned with growing anxiety that there was an odd smell and unusual warmth, and before his eyes she'd collapsed! She was unconscious, but she was still breathing. He'd tried to wake her up to no avail. Panic gripped him as he numbly tried to think of what he could do. Could he take her upstairs? He didn't see how that would help. Maybe he could call somebody? Maybe, but who? His dad? No way, he'd skin him alive for taking someone into the basement! Her parents? No, they'd probably skin him alive, too! Who could he call!

He ran his hands through his hair nervously. What the heck was he going to do? Almost on the verge of tears, he mumbled, "Sarah, I'm sorry ..." when he suddenly noticed that Sarah was well on her way to no longer being her human self. Her teeth were almost completely feline, and her ears had already grown; fur appeared in scattered patches. He was petrified for a moment before recalling that Pollicles reverted to their canine forms if badly injured or hurt; perhaps Jellicles did the same thing. Still, this posed an even greater problem. Maybe he would have been able to get Sarah to the hospital, but Etcetera! He wouldn't even be able to leave the house now, and when his dad finally came home ... well, he would have to get her somewhere else by then.

Extremely nervous, he went over his options once more, looking over her unconscious form. But then, his eyes fixed on her jeans pocket; a bulge there indicated a cell phone inside. Fingers fumbling, he pulled it out and opened up its contact list. Surely there must be someone in there he could call! Then he came upon a single entry called "911." Looking at the number the name correlated to, he saw that it was a regular seven-digit number, and not normal 911 service.

Well, it couldn't hurt could it?

Actually, it could. If whoever the number was for wasn't Jellicle ...

Well, he didn't have too many options, did he?

Numbly, he called the number.

* * *

Madeline wasn't sure if she'd just heard correctly. "Wait, he died just from being around a Pollicle a lot!" she questioned hastily.

"It would seem so," Solomon remarked without looking up from the book.

Mark, Sarah, and Greg exchanged a hasty look. They didn't have to read each others' to know what they were all thinking: Sarah could be in a life and death situation!

"Thanks Solomon, but we've gotta go!" Mark almost yelled.

The three of them tore out of that little living room and ran into the kitchen, leaving Solomon to mutter, "Now I wonder what can have gotten into them?"

Once out of earshot of Solomon, Mark whispered, "Quick, where is she now?"

Madeline racked her brain before gasping, "She went to Brandon's house for the afternoon! She said she was going to help him with something, but she was doing that weird twitchy thing she always does when she's trying to lie. I don't want to know what they're really doing!"

"I DO!" Mark shot back, panicked. "She's my sister! We have to get there RIGHT NOW! Greg - !"

But he was interrupted by the cool face of Mistoffelees in Greg's clothes. "Way ahead of you. Come on, you know the drill by now."

As he stared confusedly, Mark muttered, "Why - ?"

"Greg can't teleport. I can. You think we're going to waste time driving back! Hurry up and think of Brandon's house," he ordered, seizing Mark's and Madeline's shoulders and closing his eyes to work the spell.

As she hurriedly focused on Brandon's place, Madeline thought pitifully, _I hope we're not too late..._

* * *

One ring. Two rings. Three ri -

Finally, someone answered the phone. "Daniel Black."

"Uh ... hello?" Brandon managed to choke out.

"... Who is this?" the person (apparently Daniel Black) queried.

"Ah ... this is Brandon. I'm Sarah Forsworth's boyfriend."

A pause, then a cautious, "Is there something wrong?"

Brandon took a deep breath, then said, "Yes. Sarah's here with me at my house. She's unconscious. And she's ... transformed."

With no hesitation, Daniel blurted out, "I'll be right there. Don't tell anyone. Don't go anywhere. Don't open the door for anyone but me. Is anyone else there with you? What's your address?"

Brandon, a little fazed by all of this, answered, "No one else is here. And we're on 555 Oak Street."

"I'll be right there."

The line went dead.

Brandon let out a long sigh. Thankfully, whoever he just spoke to must have been Jellicle, or he wouldn't have been quite so ... cognizant of how to handle the situation. He looked over Sarah's unmoving form for a long minute, wishing that she would just wake up and nothing terrible would happen. For if she didn't, there was no doubt going to be a lot of explaining to do, explaining that would certainly put not only Brandon and his family at risk, but possibly the entire population of Pollicles on earth. For if anyone knew they were still around ... Brandon didn't want to think about it.

But currently, the most pressing matter was Sarah! Gazing at her, he tried to think of what he had to do until the Jellicle man came. Certainly he couldn't show him into the basement! He would have to carry Sarah upstairs.

However, just as he slipped his hands under her to get a stable grip, voices from upstairs reached his ears: "Aw, it does smell like dog!"

* * *

"Aw, it does smell like dog!" Madeline gasped, covering her nose as they materialized in the living room of the Miller residence.

"Sarah? SARAH?" Mark immediately started calling out as soon as he could see. Finding that she was not in this room, he pelted down the hall, in search of his zany younger sister.

Madeline was about to follow him until she noticed that Mistoffelees was unmoving. He stood transfixed, staring at the floor, and clutching at his middle as if in pain.

She was at his side immediately, demanding, "What's wrong!"

"I can't stay in here," he gasped breathlessly. "I'll meet you outside." He closed his eyes, about to will himself away, but she stopped him.

"Wait, is safe for me and Mark? Can't you just change back?"

He tried to make a move half-way between nodding and shaking his head, but gave up; he seemed to be exhausted from just standing in the living room. "You'll be fine," he gasped, "I just ... there's a magic in here ... I can't stand it ... I'll see you outside." And with that, he poofed out.

Relieved of her tuxedoed burden, but still quite worried about him, and mumbling a prayer, Madeline joined Mark in his search of the house.

* * *

Brandon, who had tensed upon hearing the newcomers, relaxed as he recognized who it was. "Mark, is that you?" (Brandon did know Mark, sort of; they'd attended summer camp together some years ago.)

"Brandon! Where are you!" came the response. "Where's my sister!"

"She's down here! I -" but he broke off abruptly, suddenly reconsidering the wisdom of letting them know exactly where they were. Changing his response, he called up the stairs, "Don't come down, I'll bring her up there!"

* * *

Madeline found the guest room with the secret passage before Mark could, and dashed over to the open bureau, about to descend the stairs. But a sudden force halted her at the threshold, and she stood doubled over for a moment, as though punched in the stomach. Brandon didn't need to tell her; she did _not_ want to go down there!

Brandon soon came up, holding the unconscious Etcetera in his arms. Mark had found the room by this time. As he saw his sister's unmoving form, his eyes widened dramatically, but Brandon quickly cut off his assumptions of the worst with, "She's not dead! She's unconscious!"

With a tiny sigh of relief (but not very much relief; she was still out cold!), Mark assisted Brandon in laying her down on the large bed in the room. While Brandon closed the doors of the bureau hastily, Mark and Madeline went over Etcetera for signs of life. They were able to ascertain no more than Brandon had: Sarah was still breathing, but she showed no other signs of life.

"Etcetera! Etcetera!" Madeline almost screamed in her face, trying to wake her up. If what had happened to the Jellicle in Soloman's book was true ... well, Madeline _really _wanted Etcetera to wake up.

Mark meanwhile, took out his rage on the other occupant of the room. He grabbed Brandon by the collar and roared, "What have you done to my sister!"

"I – I didn't - !" he tried explain, gasping.

"What did you do to my sister, you Pollicle son of a bitch!"

Brandon's breath caught in his throat (or, what little breath he had did). They knew what he was! "I – how do you – ?" he tried to gasp, but they were both interrupted by a frantic knocking on the door.

"Shut up, you two!" Madeline ordered. "We can't let whoever that is hear us!"

"Wait," Brandon gasped struggling to breathe. "It's okay. I called – "

"WHO DID YOU CALL?" Mark demanded, shaking Brandon harder, outraged that he had have endangered his sister so flagrantly by calling someone!

"His name's ... Daniel," Brandon managed to get out.

Madeline sighed heavily. "It's Danny. I'll get him." She raced out towards the front entrance of the large house, but paused at the door of the room they were in. Glaring at Mark, she ordered "Put him down!"

Mark reluctantly let go of Brandon's shirt and slumped down on the bed next to Etcetera. Brandon, fearful and trembling, still managed to inquire angrily, "How the heck do you know what I am!"

"We saw you the night of the full moon," Mark answered, eyes still locked on Etcetera. "We followed the two of you from the junkyard."

"WE!" Brandon demanded, panicking. "Who else knows!"

"Just me, Madeline and Greg. Nobody else. Okay!" Mark answered, growing angrier as the dog kept questioning him.

"You can't tell this Daniel guy! If he -"

"We'll tell him whatever the hell we have to!" Mark yelled, cutting him off. He stood up from the bed, using his extra height to try to intimidate the shorter boy. "No bloody _dog_ is going to tell me what – "

"Where's Sarah!" Daniel Black called, storming into the room, followed closely by Madeline. (Munkustrap could sure be threatening when he had to be.) He didn't have too far to look though. As soon as he spied the Jellicle girl on the bed, he turned on Brandon and demanded, "What happened?"

"She fainted. And then she transformed." Brandon answered, keeping his cool before the man (for that was what he'd been trained to do in times of hiding; Pollicles took no chances).

Danny didn't press the point. He had more important matters to attend to. "Madeline, call Mitchell at his clinic. He has a private section there where we can take her. You two," he said, turning to Mark and Brandon, "Find blankets. We'll wrap her up so no one sees her and take her in my car." When no one moved, he shouted, "Don't just stand there! Move!"


	13. At The Clinic

A/N: Wow, it's been a while, hasn't it? A present for you then. Enjoy.

* * *

Brandon tried very hard not to shiver as he sat grimly in the front seat of Daniel's station wagon on the way to the clinic. Etcetera had been placed in the rear-most seat of the car, Madeline had quickly climbed in next to her to watch over her, and Mark and another guy Brandon did not know sat in the middle, leaving only the shotgun position for Brandon. It was all too awkward for him; he could only assume that everyone in the car besides him was Jellicle, and therefore very threatening to a Pollicle-in-hiding. But now that Mark seemed to know about that ... 

Brandon tried to take his mind off of that. All he could think about just then was Etcetera...

Daniel's cell phone rang, and he answered it on speaker-phone: "Daniel Black."

"It's Mitchell. Susan and I are ready here. Where are you?"

"Just around the corner."

"Good. Bring her to the back entrance." A pause, then: "Can you tell me how her heart-rate is?"

Madeline, overhearing the speaker-phone, reached under the blankets, put two fingers to Etcetera's neck to feel her pulse, and announced so that Mitchell could hear her: "Very slow!"

As Daniel negotiated the parking lot and finally pulled into what looked to Brandon like a dead-end alleyway, he said into the phone: "We're here. Open the door."

Brandon's eyes widened significantly as what looked like a solid wall opened up, revealing a door painted to look like the rest of the alley. A man in a lab coat (Brandon might have been surprised to know that Mitchell, or more privately, Alonzo, was a doctor) stood in this doorway, motioning hurriedly for those in the car to bring in the patient quickly. Daniel stopped the car and jumped out to assist Mark in carrying the still-unconscious Jellicle (cocooned in blankets) into the hospital room. In this way, the whole party of cats paraded into the clinic. Brandon tried to follow, but the door was closed in front of him by the one he did not know.

"Hey, I have to get in there!" he protested to this curiously white-blond guy.

The person eyed him oddly. "You have no business here, Pollicle," he said coldly.

Brandon almost gasped at the mention of his true form, but managed to swallow it. This then, must be Greg, the other one that Mark had said knew about his caninity. Breathing heavily, he ordered softly: "You can't tell anyone about this. Anyone! Or I'll – "

"Don't you _dare_ threaten me," Greg cut him off, leaning cooly against the door, still blocking off Brandon's entrance. "You have _no idea_ who you're messing with."

* * *

"What's her heart rate?"

"45 BPM"

"Get her an IV, and keep the oxygen mask on."

"Absolutely."

Madeline, Mark, and Danny could only stand back as Mitchell examined instruments, gave orders, and Susan answered them (Jennyanydots hadn't been a nurse in her youth for nothing). All three held their breath for several minutes, fearing what the diagnosis could be for Etcetera.

Finally, Mitchell straightened up from examining the size of Etcetera's pupils, and addressed the onlookers. "She's alive, but completely unresponsive," he announced.

"Hey, we knew that!" Mark retorted. "Is she going to be okay!"

"I wasn't done yet," Mitchell went on. "Her body is mostly undamaged, though there has been some oxygen-deprivation to her brain. She's stable for the moment. What happened? Did she hit her head again?"

Danny turned to Mark and Madeline with his arms folded. "Well?" he inquired, as eager to hear this story as the doctor was.

Mark took a deep breath, then said, "We're not sure, but we have an idea of what happened. You remember the stories about Pollicles, right?"

"But they're all gone," Susan protested.

Madeline frowned and said, "Well, they're not all gone..."

* * *

"I have no idea who I'm messing with!" Brandon retorted. "I think I have every idea who I'm messing with, you wimpy cat!" His predator instincts kicked in, and his fingers itched to unbutton his shirt and rip his medallion off. He suddenly forgot that he was several inches shorter and several years younger than the Jellicle in front of him; his one goal was to get to and protect Sarah! He wasn't about to let a _cat_ get in his way!

"Au contraire," Greg responded, steel in his voice, and an eerie smile creeping onto his face. "If you knew what I was capable of, you'd be whimpering away, crying for your bitch of a mother with your tail between your legs." The smile vanished. "You have no right to be interfering here. You're the one who's caused all this trouble. Leave while you still can."

Brandon wavered. Sarah – no, Etcetera was still his girlfriend, and he thought the world for her! They'd revealed their innermost selves to each other! They had something together! He had every right to be with her at her side!

He wavered no longer. "My mother," Brandon spat out slowly, rage growing within him, "Is human. Etcetera is my girlfriend. I ... I love her! And you're not going to keep me out of there!" This time, he did grope at his collar to remove his medallion.

But before he could get a decent grip on the cord, a word fell softly from the other man's mouth: "Stop." Somehow, the word meant more than the simple sound required to utter it, and suddenly Brandon could no longer move his hands: his limbs, arms _and_ legs, were locked tightly in place by some force he could neither see nor struggle against. "What have you got there?" the Jellicle muttered, coming closer to Brandon, and leaning over to examine the gold Brandon held in his hand. He reached out to touch it, but suddenly recoiled before he was within a foot of it. "So you can spell charms..." he muttered under his breath.

Brandon breathed heavily; maybe this Jellicle _was_ capable of more than he appeared to be. There was little he could do now. Still, he couldn't give up hope. "Please," he uttered, gasping for breath, "Let me in there. I have to ... see Etcetera."

The blond Jellicle straightened up and addressed him more calmly: "You may not see Etcetera. But take my word for it, she will be well taken care of. I would advise you to leave now. Even if I let you through the door, you would not be welcome here."

"But ..." Brandon still tried.

"Go!" the man said more forcefully this time, and with that, even though the Jellicle didn't move, what felt like paws unlocked Brandon's limbs, spun him around, and gave him a gentle push in the opposite direction.

With the utmost reluctance, Brandon walked toward the bus stop, feeling the bitter defeat felt only by a dog who has been scratched by a cat.

* * *

"Wait," Mitchell said slowly after Madeline had told the story of their earlier trip to Brandon's house. "So there have been Pollicles in this city for years? And we never realized it!"

"Well, at least one," Madeline offered reluctantly.

"Oh no..." Danny moaned, head in his hands. "Time to start up the phone tree again..."

"Wait, can we take care of Sar – Etcetera first!" Mark interrupted, gesturing frantically to the still unconscious form of his sister.

Just then, the outside door opened, revealing Greg in the doorway. "Brandon is gone. Is Etcetera okay?" he asked, reiterating Mark's sentiments.

Mitchell, recalled to his patient, said, "Yes, she's going to be all right. I think. She's not in any immediate danger anyway. But I need to know what caused this." He addressed the last remark to Mark and Madeline.

Madeline looked down to the floor, but muttered, "Well, we went to see Solomon, to ask about Pollicles, and ... well, you know Sarah's been hanging out with Brandon a lot lately, and – "

But Mark cut her off: "Solomon told us that Pollicles may have the power to incapacitate Jellicles just from their proximity. They may even be able to kill us without even really doing anything."

Susan gasped sharply. Mitchell breathed in deeply, trying to keep his professional calm, and finally said, "In that case, this may be more a job for Greg than for me." He looked to Greg and gestured to Etcetera's figure on the hospital bed.

Greg, maintaining the utmost calm, walked over to Etcetera and laid his hand on her shoulder, closing his eyes as he did so. He grimaced, but finally muttered, "There's something ... like patches of shadow on her skin ... " He opened his eyes and addressed the others assembled. "I can't be sure. We should get Kyle and Katrina," he suggested.

Daniel already had his cell phone out. "Then we'll get Kyle and Katrina."

* * *

"Should I get this one?"

"No, it's no good. I've read it already."

"Okay, how about this one?"

"I've read that one, too."

"But is it any good?"

"How should I know?"

While Mark, Madeline, and the crew were in Mitchell's clinic, Hannah and Willa had innocently gone to the library, and were in the process of looking for books. Or at least, Hannah was.

"If you read it, you should know what it was like," Hannah said at Willa indignantly (for even Jemima could get annoyed when she wanted to).

"I wasn't really paying attention," Willa yawned absently (for Victoria had always felt she didn't need to keep up with books).

"Fine, I'm getting it then," Hannah said triumphantly as she pulled the book from the shelf. "Now to – "

But just then, the library phone could be heard ringing. The two girls, curious to know who it could be (for who would want to call the library on a Friday afternoon?), crept up to the front desk to listen in on the Storkes as they answered the phone. All they heard was a twin chorus of, "We'll be right there." Kyle and Katrina then walked out from behind the front desk and made a bee-line for the front door.

Katrina called over her shoulder on her way out, "Watch the books while we're gone."

Willa, looking around, muttered, "Was she talking to us?"

The reply came back, "Well, since we're the only two in here, I think I can safely say that yes, we now have book-watching duty. Fun times."


End file.
